


That a Ghost Should be so Practical

by Meddalarksen, victoriousscarf



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- Paranormal, Ghosts, M/M, No Character Death but the Ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meddalarksen/pseuds/Meddalarksen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a photographer, Mistoffelees would always rather explore old ruins or decayed buildings rather than do actual paying work.</p><p>He just didn't expect the house he walked into to be cursed with ghosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No One Asked You

It was a constant battle to actually get food untouched to the table, as every time Mistoffelees moved to set another dish on the lazy Susan, Tugger would attempt to take from it. "Could you at least wait until the noodles are on the table?" he demanded and Tugger grinned in response.

"No," he said, attacking the dish with his chopsticks.

"The point of me buying a lazy Susan was to feed your appetite and love of Asian food, could you at least use it?" Mistoffelees shook his head, leaning back on his heels.

Griddlebone laughed at that, whacking Tugger's hand lightly with her own chopsticks, "Misto has taken it upon himself to feed us, you could at least wait until he's sitting down to start eating."

"But the food is in front of me now," Tugger whined, drawing his hand back finally.

"Oh god," Mistoffelees rolled his eyes, dropping the last plate down and fetching the glasses to finish the table. "There," he said, hitting the back of Tugger's head lightly. "Now you can eat."

"See, that wasn't so bad a wait," Grids offered Tugger with a smile.  Her gaze moved to Mistoffelees, "It smells delicious."

"I certainly hope it is," he said, seating himself, placing a napkin on his lap before picking up his chopsticks.

"I helped cook!" Tugger chirped, already piling his plate.

"Yes," Mistoffelees agreed. "He washed some of the bowls and cut up the onions, though that seemed to make him very sad..."

Tugger rolled his eyes. "Oh ha ha."

"You made this poor boy suffer through cutting up onions?"  Grids shook her head as she dished up some food for herself, "How could you do such a thing, Misto?  His eyes will be red for weeks."

Mistoffelees laughed, starting to pick at the food. "He's awful, isn't he?" Tugger shook his head. "I mourn those poor onions you know."

"Well, would you have preferred him to be actually cooking? Or slaughtering the leeks?"

"Oh god no.  I wouldn't dare touch the food in that case," the woman laughed lightly.

"You are a dictator of the kitchen," Tugger drawled and Mistoffelees laughed and shook his head.

"Only for the sake of being able to eat anything."

"So how are the latest photo shoots going?" she glanced between the other two, "Since all I've been doing lately is scheduling them."

"Well," Tugger declared happily as Mistoffelees groaned. "Alright, fine. I'm posing beautifully as ever and he's discontent with everything."

"I'm just not feeling anything lately," Mistoffelees shrugged. "None of the prints seem to be coming out--through no fault of anyone else but me."

"You're too picky, Misto," Griddlebone admonished.  "If you'd just let me look over them.  I mean, really, I'm sure they're fine."

"You can look over them if you like," he shrugged, picking at a single piece of rice with his chopsticks. "They're not very good though. There's no spirit in them."

"She's right," Tugger shook his head. "You're way too picky."

She shook her head at Tugger, "He is, but he's also an 'artiste'. Which means he's probably bored."

"Totally bored," he said, propping his chin up in his palm, idly moving his food around his plate. "So bored. I don't know what to do."

"Are you bored with me?" Tugger asked, actually looking both worried and horrified.

Mistoffelees tilted his chin up and shook his head. "No, certainly not. I mean, not of you. You're very nice so far as models go but... I've been taking too many pictures of people lately."

"No," Griddlebone spoke firmly.  "I know where this is going and no, you are not allowed to go tramping off to find interesting subjects.  The last time you did that you got banned from a national historical site for climbing on the castle."

Tugger roared in laughter as Mistoffelees narrowed his eyes at her. "Okay, first of all, that was in an entirely different country, and that warden was just nuts. It wasn't like I was climbing on like, Civil War earthworks that have all the keep off signs."

"How much do I want to be that the castle had keep off signs too?" Tugger snickered.

Griddlebone nodded, "There were a couple at the entrance to the site, and I seem to recall one on the grounds in front of the castle itself too."

"It was fine," Mistoffelees shrugged.

"I am still so sad I wasn't part of this trip," Tugger remarked, slurping loudly at some noodles, getting a look from Mistoffelees. "It sounds quite exciting."

"It was one of my best shows too," he sighed again, eyes glazing over slightly at the memory of it.

"And you are so completely not allowed to perform a repeat, do you understand?" Griddlebone spoke, pointing her chopsticks at Mistoffelees.

He snapped out of his daydream. "What? Why not?"

"Because it's one thing to get banned from a site in another country, it's another for it to be around here, or for you to get in trouble for trespassing."

"I'm sure I could find something without trespassing," Mistoffelees mumbled.

"Sure. I mean, even my family has some old house in ruins out at the city limits. It's practically in the country and no one's been in there in generations."

Griddlebone sighed, offering Tugger an exasperated look, "And what's the state of that house?"

"Ruins," Tugger repeated. "Like, doors off hinges, leaves in the floor, shit like that. I mean, we go out periodically to check to make sure there's no squatters or graffiti, though I don't even know why we bother to do that either. I mean, there was some fire and some tragedy no one knows jack about and it's been sitting there since."

Mistoffelees visibly perked up as Tugger talked. "Where was that again?"

"But it won't collapse on anyone who walks inside?" Griddlebone clarified, shooting a warning glance at Mistoffelees.

"Hell if I know," Tugger shrugged. "It just might."

The light in Mistoffelees' eyes already expressed exactly what his plans were as soon as he had an address. "And you said a fire?"

"Somewhere in the grounds, not the house," Tugger shrugged.

"But the house might well collapse if someone say went poking around it, disturbing the probably rotting timbers?" Griddlebone pressed more specifically.

"Probably," Tugger managed, finally looking up and seeming to understand what this conversation was implying.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Mistoffelees said quickly.

"You don't know that," she responded sharply. "You could break your leg, or worse your neck going in there."

"I'll be perfectly safe," Mistoffelees protested. "And careful."

She sighed, "When are you going?"

"Thursday, perhaps," he replied. "I have a lot to do between now and then."

Griddlebone shook her head, resigning herself to it, "I expect to hear from you when you go in, and when you get out.  If anything happens you'd better have your goddamned cell on you, okay?"

He rolled his eyes. "Have you known me to go without my cell?" he asked and Tugger laughed.

"Often," she answered.  Griddlebone shook her head slightly, "Fine, just, please let me know when you've gotten out of there."

He made a face. "I promise I'll take the damned phone and that I'll get out in one piece without issue."

"You'd better."

"It's just a house," he protested. "What could possibly go wrong inside it?"

o-o-o-o

On Tuesday, long before Thursday, Mistoffelees slipped out of his car, eyes lit with the sight of the decrepit mansion in front of him. Strap of his camera around his neck he stepped forward, slipping through where the gate was half off its hinges.

Snapping a few shots of the gate, he stopped in front of the steps leading up to the front door, gaping a few minutes as he felt a shiver go down his spine at the sight and the beauty of the old house. In its heyday it must have been the pride of the city, and he was honestly surprised he hadn't heard of it before.

Finally lifting his camera again, he took several shots of not only the door, but the view looking down to the gate from the angle of the door, before pushing it open and slipping inside.

He tried to remember to take pictures as he wandered through the ground floor, looking at doors that had fallen off their hinges, and old stair cases covered in dust. He paused for a long moment in what must have been the library, craning his neck back to consider the twisted metal staircase before going to the room next door, where another, grander staircase came from the upstairs, and a piano sat in an alcove at the bottom, several moldering books scattered near the bench. Bending down, he traced the fallen cover of one of them, murmuring the French title as well he could under his breath before standing to consider the piano.

There was a sound from the entry hall, sounding like it might have echoed from up the main staircase. At the same moment the keys of the old grand piano started moving, the sounds of a waltz emanating from the dusty instrument.  A board in the ceiling above creaked and there was a faint sound of footsteps as the music from the piano rose in volume.

Mistoffelees jumped backward, hitting his back on the wall and almost tripping over one of the old books, eyes snapping toward the ceiling as there seemed to be the sound of footsteps nearby dancing out the Waltz being played.

Eyes wide, he reached forward, fingers hovering over the piano keys, trying to understand how they were playing.

The music paused as he reached for the keys and there was a whisper of movement and the faintest of chills before it picked up where it had left off and continued lgihtly through the dance tune.  In the entry hall there was a very distinct sound of footsteps at the top of the main staircase.

Still looking around in surprise, Mistoffelees took a step toward the staircase, eyes still glued more to the piano than thinking about possible people actually in the house.

The footsteps paused at the base of the stairs and a sharp voice came from the thin brown-haired man standing there, "What are you doing here?"  The music stopped abruptly, the final note discordant.

"Um," Mistoffelees blinked. "I, I could ask you the same thing!"

"Get out," came the response, the man's grey eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Excuse me?" Mistoffelees blinked, holding his camera defensively.

"I said get out.  You shouldn't be here," he started toward the room with the piano, dismissing the other.

"I was invited," Mistoffelees returned primly, curiosity getting the better of him as he followed. "Who are you?"

"Invited?  By who? The occupants of this house certainly didn't invite you." His gaze swept the room, "Or have you two been out without telling me?"  The piano offered a discordant minor diminished chord in response and the man's lips quirked ever so slightly, "No, of course not."

Mistoffelees blinked, not even sure what to do with that. "By the man who still owns the house. Or is supposed to. Now who are you?"

"You mean the man who never even comes out here himself?" The brunet laughed derisively, "As though he has any right to say who may come and go. I am the sole living occupant of this house and I have been for many a year.  Now that you have your answer, get out.  You are neither wanted nor welcome here."

Snapping a few more pictures, Mistoffelees looked back over to him. "I don't think anyone is supposed to be living here though."

"Being a living occupant and actually living are two vastly different things, I've found," came the response.  "Now, if you would be so kind as to _leave_."

Bracing himself, Mistoffelees crossed his arms over his chest. "Could you make me?" he demanded and a door slammed upstairs, making him jump.

The brunet arched an eyebrow, sparing only the barest glance for the ceiling at the sound, "If I had to, yes I'm quite sure I could."

Mistoffelees blinked. "Really? How?"

"With physical force if need be.  With help from the ghosts possibly as well, if they feel in the mood."

“With help from the," Mistoffelees blinked. "The... come again?"

"Ghosts. What else did you think was causing the piano to play?"  He caught the other by the elbow and started steering him toward the front door.

"Yeah, okay, but who are you?" Mistoffelees asked, allowing himself to be steered.

"How many ways would you have me answer that?  My name is Coricopat.  I am the only _living_ resident of this house and I have been for many years, as I already told you."

"Yeah but it doesn't make sense," Mistoffelees said, stumbling slightly and catching up to him again, looking at the other's face.

"Then do your research," he responded as they reached the front door.  "But I do not recommend coming back here. It could be hazardous, the house isn't exactly safe."

"Seems safe enough," Mistoffelees chirped back, not moving to leave.

"It hasn't been for years.  Good day, sir," he opened the door enough to gesture the other to exit through it.

Mistoffelees just raised a brow at him. "Well, you move around in it well enough, if you live here."

"I've had time to learn it." He was going to have to physically push the other out at this rate and he was not looking forward to that.

"And I couldn't?" Mistoffelees asked, actually grinning.

"No," Coricopat pursed his lips.  Steeling himself he caught the other's elbow more firmly and pushed him through the doorway, "Good day.  Do yourself a favor and don't come back here."  He shut the door firmly, leaning against it and closing his grey eyes.

As Mistoffelees was shoved out, he turned, snapping a picture of Coricopat as he was closing the door. For a moment he stood on the porch before turning and leaving.

o-o-o-o

Several hours later, Mistoffelees sat on a turned around chair, different images of the house strung up on a line in front of him. Crossing his arms over the back of the chair he considered some of the different shots, mostly the angles of the doorway and the piano, though a strange mist around the piano confused him.

But what he most found himself coming back to where the images of the angular man he found in the house, especially the one of him when the door was in process of closing.

Griddlebone tapped on the door of the room he was in and stepped inside after a moment, "Mistoffelees?  Are those your newest pri-- These don't look like they're of your models."

He hummed, paying more attention to the expression in Coricopat's eyes.

"You went out to that house, didn't you?"  She picked up the photograph of the piano, "These are good."

That actually got a distracted smile out of him. "Some of the best."

Griddlebone's gaze moved to the picture he was examining, "Who's that?"

"I'm not entirely sure yet," he murmured.

"There was someone there at the abandoned house?" she clarified.

"Oh, yeah," he said and nodded.

"So, you went there alone, on a day you didn't say you were going and you ran into someone who is camping out in an abandoned house who for all you know is some wanted criminal.  I'm impressed.  I thought you couldn't beat the castle incident."

Mistoffelees finally blinked over to her. "Some wanted--No. He just seems to live there. I couldn't really get a straight answer out of him. It's fine though, and I'm fine."

Griddlebone leaned her hip against his desk and crossed her arms, not looking convinced, "You couldn't get a straight answer out of him, he's living in an abandoned house, and you don't think he's possibly a wanted criminal?"

Grinning up at her, Mistoffelees shrugged. "Well, so what if he is? He makes such a great model."

"...So the fact that he might be a murderer makes no difference to you then?"

"Look at the print!" Mistoffelees said, waving a hand at it.

She picked it up, considering it, "It's artistic, but really, Misto, it looks rather like he's barring entrance more than anything."

"And you think that makes it less like one of the best prints I've made in the last three years?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Well, maybe not.  I mean, it's really nice, but don't you think you could find another model for these sorts of pictures maybe?"

"Maybe," he said, propping his chin up on his palm and considering it again. "Though, would they come with such an amazing setting?"

Griddlebone sighed, "You mean the one he's apparently locking you out of?"

"Well, that's what windows are for," Mistoffelees grinned.

"Mistoffelees, no.  You can't honestly be planning to go back!" she snapped, setting the print down and turning a glare on him.

He blinked once, smile turning up another notch. "Of course I'm not. I'm not that crazy."

She frowned, "And I'm not that stupid, Mistoffelees.  Don't go back alone."

"I won't," he said, frowning at her. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"Well, you went two days before anyone who could have backed you up thought you were going," she answered evenly.

"I learned from my mistake?" he offered.

"Promise?" she pressed him, hands going to her hips as she stared him down.

"Of course," he laughed it off, looking back at the picture of Coricopat.

Griddlebone didn't quite look like she believed him, but she didn't push it, picking up another one of the photos instead.

o-o-o-o

Which was for the best, as the next misty morning he was back at the house before the sun had fully risen.

The invisible musician from his last visit was moving through the lower floor, lighting a lamp here and there as he passed, pausing at one of the windows and twitching a tattered curtain aside. Drawing back to the lamps nearest the front door he flickered the lights and traced an ethereal hand through the door latch to open it slightly.

Mistoffelees blinked at that, pausing before he took a picture of the curtains and then the door, as if trying to photograph what was moving, wondering if the man who lived in the house was an inventor who liked to try to scare people off, like in a haunted house.

Approaching the stairs he hesitated before starting up them. Reaching about the halfway point, he yelped in terror as suddenly the steps smoothed out, catching himself on the railing and holding on as what used to be a pathway up turned into a slide.

There was a flicker of the front lights again before a glissando at the higher octaves of the piano rang out sounding rather like laughter.  Footsteps echoed in one of the upstairs halls at that sound.

Scrambling, Mistoffelees yelped again as he let go, sliding down the stairs and landing in a bundle at the bottom, curled around his camera. The music shifted, echoing slightly more harshly, sounding more like a reprimand than anything.  A door in the upper east wing shut and the footsteps neared.

Sitting up, Mistoffelees looked around as one of the doors nearby started opening and closing.

Coricopat appeared at the upstairs landing, a frown gracing his features, "I thought I told you not to come back here."  His gaze darted toward the closing door, "And you, do you mind stopping that racket?"  The piano chimed out again and he scowled toward that room, snapping irritably, "You too."

Mistoffelees blinked once, still cradling his camera. "Well, you did, but I was doing a bit better with the sneaking until the stairs went..." he paused as the stairs reverted to their normal state. "Right."

Descending the stairs, the other man shook his head, "You remember the part where I told you this house wasn't safe?"

"Wasn't a bad fall," Mistoffelees shrugged, rising.

"Right.  Of course.  The stairs turned into a slide and you didn't have a bad fall," Coricopat reached the foot of the stairs, stopping on the last step.

"Hardly a bad fall," he shrugged. "I've had many worse, usually when the floor gives out. Don't tell Grids, but I've gotten really great at falling effectively."

"If you do this sort of thing often then I'm sure you have,” Coricopat returned dryly.

Mistoffelees smiled, turning and heading back to the room with the piano, snapping a few shots. "I've taken self defense classes in the interest of falling better."

"When that becomes the case you really ought to stop getting into situations where you would need it," Coricopat responded, following.  The piano started up again, but quieted down slightly at a look from Coricopat.

"That's just creepy," Mistoffelees shook his head, looking around the room again. "But I'm fine and it's fine."

"The piano? Player pianos exist."  The piano offered a discordant sweep of notes as though offended at the suggestion that an exquisite grand piano could have any association with a player piano.

"Yeah, they don't just sound offended like that though," Mistoffelees pointed out.

Coricopat shrugged, "What are you doing back here?"

"I wasn't done taking pictures," Mistoffelees said, propping his hip against the piano.

The piano stopped playing at that as Coricopat shook his head again, "So you thought you'd come back here again?  After being rather solidly shown the door last time?"

"Well, I thought I could be sneakier," Mistoffelees shrugged. "Though, for that matter, I'm still curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat and a whole lot of other things."

"I'm not dead yet," Mistoffelees shrugged. A door slammed upstairs loudly and he jumped. "Though apparently that might not hold..."

"This house has a way of making that saying come true," Coricopat warned.

"That's intimidating," Mistoffelees laughed, brushing it off.

"You won't leave until your curiosity is answered, will you?"

"Oh, probably not, and a great deal more shots."

"Well, that's rather a pity as you're not welcome here and certainly aren't going to be getting answers."

Mistoffelees arched a brow. "I'm not?"

"No.  You really very much are not,” Coricopat replied, voice harsh and emphatic.

"And why is that?" Mistoffelees asked, leaning forward.

"I don't believe I need to explain myself to you," he took a half step back.

Shrugging, Mistoffelees leaned against the piano again, lifting the camera to take a picture of Coricopat looking ready to flee or at least get out of his space. "Maybe not."

Coricopat startled at that, his lip curling back slightly, "Keep me out of those pictures."  A high pitched trill from the piano gave the feeling of laughter again and earned a dark look from Coricopat.

"Sorry, way too late," Mistoffelees smirked, feeling oddly backed up by the piano.

Gaze moving from the piano to the door to the room, he scowled, "Isn't there something about not taking pictures without someone's consent?"

"I'd be long out of a job if there was," Mistoffelees shook his head.

"Either way, I would rather you didn't. I've spent years avoiding documentation and would appreciate you not breaking that pattern."

"I've already made up prints I'm not even sorry to say," Mistoffelees shrugged. "Would you rather I not publish them then?"

"You've done _what_?"  the other man's grey eyes narrowed and his voice dropped dangerously.

"Made prints of the images I took yesterday," Mistoffelees said, smirking slightly in a teasing manner. "Would you rather not me blow them up for a show then?"

Coricopat froze, "You son of a bitch, don't you dare."

Mistoffelees blinked, having not entirely expected that. "Why would it bother you?” he asked instead.

"I already told you, I've spent years avoiding documentation.  It's best for all concerned."

"Yes but why?" he asked, leaning forward again, palms braced on the piano.

"That," he drew himself further from the other, "is none of your business."

"But now you've made me curious," Mistoffelees said, frowning slightly before stepping forward, curious how far Coricopat would go backwards.

"I already warned you about curiosity," he responded, taking an equal step back.

Taking another step forward, Mistoffelees' brow went higher. "And I still say satisfaction is worth it."

Coricopat felt his back hit a closed door and he tried the handle, "I strongly disagree."

Mistoffelees tilted his head. "What are you hiding from?"

"Hiding?  I have nothing to hide from,” he muttered a curse under his breath when the door was locked.

"Really?" Mistoffelees tilted his head. "Then why are you trying to run?"

"Because I have better things to do than to stand here talking to you."

"You're welcome to leave," Mistoffelees said, gesturing. "If you'd rather."

He tried the door again and gave up on that exit, turning toward the one that led to the entry hall, "How long can I expect you to be poking your nose around here?"

"Probably a while," Mistoffelees smirked. "I like it here."

"You have one hour." Coricopat responded, exiting the room and heading up the stairs.

"Or what?" Mistoffelees yelled after him.

"Or I'll set the ghosts on you," he answered.

Mistoffelees glanced around. "That's actually not entirely a sufficient threat." He paused. "At least I don't think so." The piano trilled again before falling silent and the light near the door Coricopat had tried to get out through lit.

"Huh," Mistoffelees paused before trying the door.

The door was unlocked and the lights in the next room were carefully lit as he entered it, the remaining curtains on the windows being drawn back systematically to grant even more light.

"Okay," he said, looking around. "Maybe there are ghosts. In which case, what the hell?"

Lifting his camera, he took several snapshots, considering where the light from the windows was hitting.

The lights nearest the door flickered slightly, a shadow of sorts passing by the window as well.  Footsteps could be heard upstairs and the lights flickered again, almost irritably, at the sound.

"Okay, now I am beyond freaked out," he muttered, following where the lights seemed to be hinting at him to go.

The lights led him through the next room where a broken harp lay discarded to one side and into a back hall to the kitchen and the back door.  Doors lined the hall, many of them off their hinges, and others missing pieces of the doors themselves, the wallpaper was peeling from the walls, and the ceiling plaster was cracked. Taking pictures as he walked, Mistoffelees stopped in the kitchen for a long moment, distracted, before continuing to follow the lights when they started to flicker.

The lights led the way into a decrepit dining room, the table covered in dust and most of the chairs overturned, though one remained upright.  Here the lights stabilized and the curtains opened.

"Okay," Mistoffelees shrugged, before looking through the window after having considered the entire room.

The view from the window was that of an overgrown garden and a gutted, burned out building standing in the midst of the bushes and vines that entangled themselves around it.

"Huh," he managed. "Fire."

The lights nearest the second door in the room flared and the others went out as the door opened slightly onto the front hall again.

"Huh," he repeated, before turning and heading that way, looking around before approaching the back door, opening it. When he stepped through he found himself blocked. Blinking, he tried to pass through it again only to be blocked still. He could see the burned out conservatory a short distance into the backyard, but he couldn't get through the open door.

Stepping back into the room he paused as a door upstairs slammed, before slamming again. Jumping, he headed back toward the front door, taking the steps out quickly.

Coricopat appeared at the top of the stairs to watch the other man leave.  The light by the front door flickered and he offered it a dark look, "No one asked you." Another door slammed upstairs and the stairs wavered.

"Nor you either," he snapped at the slammed door as he turned to retreat back to the room he lived in.


	2. And Then You Waltzed in and Disrupted Everything

Tugger knocked on the door to Mistoffelees' darkroom, peeking his head in. "You realize Grids had been foaming at the mouth right?"

Mistoffelees hummed in distraction.

"Tell him that if he goes back there alone after _giving me his word_ that he wouldn't I'll _kill_ him," Grids snapped from the office where she was organizing his last set of prints.

"I won't go alone!" he called.

"Really now?" Tugger asked, laughing.

Griddlebone appeared the doorway, "You said that last time, and lo and behold you did!"

"Well, the second time's the charm?" he offered.

"That's the third time," Tugger informed him as he came out carrying the prints he'd just finished, laying some of them out on a table.

Grids looked at the prints over his shoulder, "Oh, what do you know? You took pictures of the guy who could be a wanted criminal again."

"I'm sure he's not," Mistoffelees replied, kindly not telling her about Coricopat's reaction to having his picture taken or the threat of it being shown.

"Huh," Tugger said, leaning over his shoulder. "He looks... interesting. Wait, why is he at the house?"

"He claims to live there," Mistoffelees said, glancing up at the taller.

"He also won't answer questions, and unless I'm very much mistaken doesn't look like he wants his picture taken," Griddlebone added.  "But Misto thinks he's a great model with a great setting and so is convinced he's not an axe murderer."

"Well, he could be, but he still takes such great pictures," Mistoffelees shrugged.

"Which is a reason for you to risk your life to take more, of course," his assistant rolled her eyes.

"Well, of course," Mistoffelees said, distractedly.

"I can't believe someone is living there," Tugger said, picking a picture up and staring at it.

Griddlebone picked up another print, "These are really good.  You've got a pretty good show start here."

"I hope so," he said, propping his chin up on one hand, thinking about the images he hadn't brought out to show them, taken during his ghost lead tour, showing blurry figures in many of them.

"You could see about taking pictures around some of those old overgrown houses down on 16th, round it out a bit," Griddlebone suggested.

Both Mistoffelees and Tugger gave her a long look. "Right," Mistoffelees said.

"Can we go back to the point where someone is living my abandoned house?" Tugger asked, not done with that point.

Grids looked at Mistoffelees for a long moment, "You're going back aren't you?"

"You're really going to want me to say no, aren't you?" Mistoffelees said, looking up.

"Well, if you are, take Tugger.  It would give him a chance to ask the guy why he's living in his house."

"I'll be sure to," he said, still paying attention to the pictures.

"No.  You _will_."  She looked at Tugger, "As long as you don't mind going with him."

"I think I have business there," Tugger nodded.

"Good.  Misto, when are you going back, honest answer this time."

"I," he paused, looking between them. "The day after tomorrow. I'll go then; I have work to do between now and then."

Griddlebone hesitated, but finally nodded, "Alright.  Anything I can give you a hand with?  Print layouts, scheduling?"

That got a laugh out of Tugger. "When doesn't he need scheduling help?"

"Oh ha ha," Mistoffelees shook his head.

"When he tells me the truth about his schedule," Griddlebone answered frankly.

"Which in my defense, I usually do," Mistoffelees pointed out.

"Except when you're having all sorts of artistic feelings,” Tugger pointed out and the photographer shrugged, appearing very unconcerned.

"Exactly, to both of you," Griddlebone admitted.

"It'll be fine," Mistoffelees muttered, looking down.

"Just," she sighed, "just be careful.  It's a pain having to look for a new job, and God knows I'd never find someone as worthwhile to work with."

"You think I'm worthwhile?" Mistoffelees asked, looking up in surprise.

Snorting, Tugger shook his head. "Why else would we stick around?"

Griddlebone ruffled Mistoffelees' hair affectionately, "Of course you're worthwhile.  You think I'd nag you about calling if you weren't?"

"Perhaps not," Mistoffelees grinned. "I promise not to go alone this time."

o-o-o-o

At the time he actually promised, Mistoffelees approached the house with Tugger. "Wow," Tugger said, glancing around. "I think it looks even more broken down than it did last time."

"It's not that bad," Mistoffelees shrugged, walking in.

"It's not that... why are you going for the stairs?" Tugger asked as the door slammed behind him, ushering him further into the house and he blinked. "Weird hinges," he muttered, looking at where Mistoffelees was already halfway up the stairs, clinging to the railing as he went. "Are you sure those stairs are safe?"

"Perfectly," Mistoffelees lied easily.

The lights right next to Tugger's head flared brightly before going out.  The piano started a half a moment later, the music darker, angrier than normal.  Footsteps echoed upstairs, moving quickly at the sounds from the piano.

Mistoffelees darted up the stairs, Tugger several steps behind him, only the stairs flattened out as soon as Mistoffelees was off them, sending Tugger flailing down on the slide. The lights flared again, both at the top and bottom of the stairs, though the ones next to Tugger burned brightest, flickering off.  Lights further down the hall upstairs lit as well, a door opening a moment later.

Mistoffelees looked around, and back down. "Tugger! Are you alright?"

"Ow. Safe you said. What the fuck was that?" Tugger asked, rubbing the back of his head.

The lights flickered angrily again, going out everywhere but further down the upstairs hall.  Coricopat stepped out of a room just past the lights, "What are you doing here again?"

"Well, I--" Mistoffelees started and took a step back, pressing his back against the banister.

"Oh my god why is someone in my house?" Tugger yelped, touching the edge of the stairs and staring up.

The brunet stared coldly down the stairs at Tugger, "You must be the Fletcher heir."  He paused at that as the lights around him flared again, "Yes, you've every right to be angry, now dim those please."  The lights lowered again and he turned on Mistoffelees, "So you not only came back you brought someone with you."

"He wanted to know who was living in his house," Mistoffelees shrugged. "Besides, Griddlebone is convinced your an axe-murderer and I should not be alone with you."

“ _I've_ killed no one," Coricopat responded looking affronted

"See, and I didn't think you did," Mistoffelees shrugged as Tugger tried to get up the stairs again. "No one else agreed with me."

 "Well, people have a habit of judging those they don't know of."

"Usually, yes," Mistoffelees shrugged, as Tugger swore and kicked at the stairs, trying to get the slide to turn back into stairs.

The lights flickered next to Mistoffelees before dimming there and flaring brightly right next to Tugger's head.  Coricopat smiled wryly at that, speaking to the lights, "Well, that's your opinion."  He turned back to Mistoffelees, "What brought you back here?"

Mistoffelees lifted the camera with a winning smile as Tugger eyed the lights, jumping when a door slammed three times in a row. Coricopat rolled his eyes, "Of course, I should have guessed."  His gaze darted to the door, "Do you mind? I'm talking here."

"So, who are these ghosts anyway?" Mistoffelees asked as Tugger twitched, looking around frantically.

"Ghosts? What ghosts? You never mentioned... Misto!"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Coricopat responded as the lights flared again.

"Not even a name? What even about when it was? Or why I can't go out the back door?"

"I'm sorry.  I can't.  You have to do your own research.  None of those questions can I answer."

Frowning, Mistoffelees crossed his arms over his chest. "Really?"

"We should go!" Tugger called from downstairs, looking more and more freaked out.

Coricopat nodded slightly, "Really.  Believe me, there's not a single question there I can answer."

"Not even yes or no ones?" Mistoffelees offered.

"Misto!" Tugger yelped again.

"You could try it I suppose," Coricopat shrugged, leaning against the banister.

"Not that I have any that come to mind," Mistoffelees muttered, looking around, not resisting the urge to take a picture over the banister.

"Mistoffelees Quaxo Rosenberg!" Tugger yelped again. "We are in a house with ghosts! We need to _leave_!"

"Oh don't be ridiculous.  They won't hurt you," Coricopat said.  "Or, they won't hurt him at least."

"That was like, the least reassuring thing I've ever heard!" Tugger yelled from down the stairs and Mistoffelees sighed, shaking his head before snapping off several quick shots of the hallway, sneaking in another one of Coricopat and where the lights were flickering and a door quivered, as if desperate to slam.

"Must you use my full name?" Mistoffelees murmured, finally looking down at him.

"If you must slam do it with less frequency," Coricopat addressed the door before looking down at Tugger.  "They're not haunting your family home for nothing after all.

Tugger blinked. "Misto!" he tried again and with a sigh, Mistoffelees turned, the stairs returning to their usual state to allow him down.

"Leaving so soon?"  Coricopat queried, leaning against the banister again, "Usually I have to throw you out."

Mistoffelees paused on the stairs, throwing a grin over his shoulder. "You think I wouldn't be back?" he asked.

"I remain ever hopeful."  The light next to him flickered, and he shot it a glare.

"For me to stop coming back or for me to make your day brighter with my presence?" Mistoffelees teased.

"Please don't flirt with the axe-murderer that lives with ghosts," Tugger hissed at him.

"I already said _, I_ never killed anyone," Coricopat growled, starting down the stairs toward Tugger.

Squeaking, Tugger took off for the back door, only to be repelled before turning and running back for the front door instead.

"Oh he's a brave one, isn't he?  It might be best for his sanity if you _don't_ return with him," the brunet advised Mistoffelees.

Mistoffelees sighed but didn't look very concerned. "I'll be sure not to," he murmured.

Coricopat reached the floor and moved to the front door, "Well, good day then."

Offering him another grin, Mistoffelees gathered Tugger and headed for the door. "Remind me again, when did this house get abandoned?"

"The... I don't know, before the Depression?" Tugger offered looking around still.

Coricopat followed them, "Look further."  He stopped abruptly once they were on the front porch, though.

Mistoffelees turned back at him. "What? Further? Further back in time?"

"Yes," he nodded, standing at the top step of the porch.

"You don't look like you're from the Victorian era!" Mistoffelees called after him.

"Did I say I was?" His lips quirked as he turned to retreat back into the house, never having left the front porch.

"Okay, so between the Victorians and the Depression," Mistoffelees said, smiling and Tugger gave him a long look.

"No, I'm with Grids, this needs to stop."

Mistoffelees gave him a long look and shrugged, looking down at his camera.

Coricopat closed the front door and looked toward where the piano was playing, "Well you two certainly were working together today, weren't you?"

The door shook again and slammed.

"Don't give me that, Macavity!" he was finally able to address the ghosts by name without the others present.

The stairs fluctuated again, and Macavity was clearly giving him just that.

The piano trilled laughter and Coricopat glared n that direction, "Munkustrap, shut up."

o-o-o-o

That afternoon Mistoffelees sat on the floor of his apartment, considering all the images full of the shadowy figures, placing them in order of the rooms he'd entered. 

He could see two forms, almost the same height but one more broad shouldered. They were often together, leaning around each other. "So, thinking forbidden romance," he murmured.

Leaning back, he tapped his mouth with a pen before rising, going to see if the local Archive was open still.

Tumblebrutus looked up as the photographer entered.  His gaze skimmed over the other, "Welcome in."

"Hey," Mistoffelees said, looking around. On occasion he had done photographic research, but it had been years since he'd gone to either a library or an Archive. "I need information on a house."

"Well, you've come to the right place in that case." Tumble got to his feet, "What house are you looking for information on?"

"The old one, out on... Twenty-third, there was a fire in the conservatory sometime between the Victorian era and Depression."

"The Fletcher estate, you mean?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees nodded. "You know of it?"

"I know where to look.  I'll be back shortly, if you'll wait in here?"  He showed Mistoffelees to a small room, "If you would leave your bag, coat and pens?  Pencils only if you don't mind."

Laughing, Mistoffelees nodded. "Of course."

Tumble offered him a bit of a smile before slipping through a door labeled "staff only".  He returned a quarter of an hour later, "If you'll follow me, I've got the documents I think will answer most of your questions, if you're looking for information about the house there."

"Thank you," Mistoffelees said, offering him a tired smile.

"Just let me know when you're done," Tumble responded, leaving him in the research room and returning to the front desk.

Flipping through the papers, Mistoffelees frowned. He was able after a while to pin point the date when the house was all but abandoned, February of 1928, over a year before the Depression took much of the Fletcher's family fortune.

A small fire had burned down the conservatory, and there were three deaths associated with it, but very few details beyond names, such as why such a fire had happened or why the house was never inhabited again.

Mistoffelees sat there for a moment, tracing the names on the paper, Macavity Hollister and Munkustrap Fletcher, finally looking over at Deuteronomy Fletcher.

"What happened to you all?" he murmured, turning to the next article and stopping at a photo of Coricopat Zimmerman standing in the doorway of the house, police swarming around him.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat sat perched on a dusty, threadbare ottoman, his attention focused on a Morse code machine, "I'm just saying you both are moving awfully fast and frankly I find him irritating and invasive.  For all you know he could make this worse.  Somehow."

The machine continued to tap, Macavity's annoyance coming through, informing Coricopat he had no taste because the photographer was not only adorable, but the best chance to ever walk through the doors. At the very least the only chance in the last ninety years and Cor really needed to stop pretending they were in a French fairytale involving Beasts.

"Oh for the love of God, I'm pretending nothing of the sort, but there's no telling that he's actually a chance for this."  He paused and rose, moving to the window.  Frowning, he watched as Mistoffelees slipped through the front gate, "He's back.  Again."

The machine typed something out about being grateful he was persistent.

"Oh shut up," he snarled, whirling on his heel and exiting the room, slamming the door as Mistoffelees crossed the threshold downstairs.

Heading up the stairs in the back instead of the front, Mistoffelees still tested the stairs every time before he reached the top, letting out a breath when the stairs remained stairs.

Coricopat frowned when he reached the top landing and didn't see the other, "Where the hell is he?"  The lights further down the hall lit and Coricopat muttered under his breath but followed them, ducking in and out of rooms as Munkustrap led him through the mansion.

While Munkustrap led him on a chase around the bottom of the house, Mistoffelees poked his way through the top rooms, finding one bedroom that looked rather lived in, blinking and stepping back, taking only one picture of that room rather than playing with angles.

Finally, he found a room with a tapping machine, pausing before he approached. "Hm?" he tilted his head, considering the machine, realizing it was a Morse code machine. "Not that I understand Morse code of anything..."

Coricopat finally stopped when the lights at the back door lit, "Oh no you don't.  I know he can't go out there, he said as much last time.  Now where is he?"  The lights turned back the way they'd come and pausing in the room with the broken harp.  The strings of the harp began to play a haunting tune which caused the brunet to growl at the ghost, "Munkustrap so help me..."

Taking several pictures of the Morse code machine, Mistoffelees considered. "Okay, I know the dashes and the dots but I really don't... I'll come back with a notepad and code, okay?"

The door opened and shut a couple times, as if in acknowledgement. "Great," he said, nodding happily and turning toward the door.

Coricopat stormed out of the room with the harp, the lights flaring frantically in his wake, trying to get him to stop, "I don't know what you're playing at you bastards, but so help me you need to bloody well stop! I gave up being scared of this ages ago, but this is starting to grate on my nerves."

Poking his head into a few more rooms in the upstairs, Mistoffelees paused at the top of the stairs.

Bursting out of the piano room, Coricopat turned back to face the door, the lights flaring in his face, "Neither of you get it and you can both stop, do you understand?  I've put up with you both for more time than anyone should have had to and if you two continue to push and pull me so help me I'll walk out that door and leave you here!"

The lights flickered, momentarily followed by low octave chords on the piano.  "Oh don't give me that!  I will figure it out and then where will you be?"

The door right behind Mistoffelees slammed, causing him to jump from where he was watching Coricopat.

Coricopat whirled, already yelling at the second ghost, "I already told you my thoughts on the matter, Macavity Hollister!  I told you _years_ ago, but you never listened and what happened then?"  He stopped when he saw Mistoffelees, realizing that he had spoken Macavity's name in front of the other for the first time, but brushing past it, "And you.  Where the hell have you been since you marched your way in here _again_?"

"Um, upstairs?" Mistoffelees offered. "There's a Morse code machine, you know?"

"Oh I am well aware there is.  He talks through it rather than the slamming doors now."

"Which is probably good for all heads involved," Mistoffelees said, bracing one hand against the banister.

"Only one involved at the time, but yes."  The lights flared again and he whirled on them, "God as my witness, Munkustrap, go _away_.  Why don't you two go...haunt the greenhouse or something?"  The piano's next notes were reproachful and Coricopat snarled at it.

"So your last name is Zimmerman, right?" Mistoffelees asked, swallowing hard as he watched him.

Coricopat startled at that, turning slowly again to face him, "Where did you hear that name?"

"In the newspapers. From 1928," Mistoffelees said, taking the first step down, forgetting to be afraid of the stairs falling out from underneath him.

"It...it's been a very very long time since I've heard that name," he admitted.

"Coricopat Zimmerman," Mistoffelees repeated and looked around. "And... Munkustrap Fletcher and Macavity Hollister."

The lights flickered, but receded when Coricopat offered them a glare, "Those are our names, yes."

"So are you dead too?" Mistoffelees asked, taking another step. "Or immortal? Or a vampire?"

The brunet backed up slightly, "No. I don't know.  And no."

"You haven't aged in ninety years," Mistoffelees murmured, coming down the stairs further, eyes on Coricopat's face.

Coricopat's eyes narrowed, "No.  I haven't.  Was there a question there?"

"I don't know," Mistoffelees said, stopping on the last three stairs, where his eyes were still mostly level with Coricopat's.

"Well, you apparently know as much as I do," the other responded with a sneer.

Mistoffelees frowned. "You've been living here for--surely you know something?"

"I've been living here since the 1920s. I cannot say anything about what happened.  I've been stuck with two ghosts for ninety years and then you waltzed in and disrupted everything."  He shook his head, retreating to the piano room, calling over his shoulder, "Get out."

"So you can be alone for another ninety years?" Mistoffelees asked, rushing after him, camera bumping against his chest, one arm spread out.

The other turned, stepping away from him, "It's preferable to risking making this worse.  This house traps people, or kills them. Or both."

"I'm neither trapped nor dead," Mistoffelees shrugged.

"And you think you'll stay that way?"  The piano started playing, and Coricopat whirled on it, "Out, Munkustrap!  Now."  The lights by the door flared once, but dimmed and the ones in the foyer lit instead.

Mistoffelees jumped at that, eyes darting back to Coricopat. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I've yet to see someone return to this house as much as you have and do so," he replied sharply.

"So I could break the pattern, couldn't I?" Mistoffelees offered.

"Is that really worth the risk?  What do you know of this place?"

"Very little," Mistoffelees said, brushing it off with a laugh. "But there's something about it and..." he hesitated. "And you. I want to help."

Coricopat laughed harshly, "You think you can help.  How?"

"Well I don't know," he shrugged. "But you seem to need some kind of help."

"Right, and obviously you, who knows nothing about this place, is the one to provide it."

Mistoffelees shrugged, stepping forward again. "I don't know. But I'm the only one here, aren't I? You haven't seemed to be much help to yourself."

The lights in the foyer flared again and Coricopat's eyes narrowed as he took a step toward Mistoffelees, "And if that was the way to fix this you don't think I would have done so already?"

"Apparently you haven't. Why are you so bothered that I might try?" Mistoffelees asked. "Scared that I'll have succeed where you failed?"

"You don't get it.  For all you know you'll make it exponentially worse!"

"Or better!" Mistoffelees protested again, spreading his arms out.

Coricopat advanced again, "And if you can't? It's better for all concerned if you just leave."

Mistoffelees took half a step back before deciding against that and taking another one forward. "Are you scared for me? Or yourself again?"

He advanced again, "Does it matter?"

"Apparently it does," Mistoffelees said, narrowing his eyes.

"Just get out. You've nothing new to add to this.  You just come around with your goddamned camera and stick your nose in everything."

"You have a lot of stuff to be stuck into," Mistoffelees snapped back.

"And I suppose that gives you a right to go prying then?"

"Maybe not, but the ghosts sure seem to like me," Mistoffelees replied, bracing himself back on his heels.

"Yeah?  Well the ghosts started this whole issue, so I wouldn't put much stock in that," he growled, stepping forward again.

Mistoffelees shrugged. "They seem more willing to do something than you do!"

"And they can do a hell of a lot, can't they?  Slamming doors, lighting lamps.  Goddamned worthless."

"What is your problem?" Mistoffelees demanded, poking hard at his chest.

"What's my problem?" Coricopat's lip curled back, "Where do you want me to start?"  He pushed the other's hand away, backing the smaller man up against the grand piano.

Mistoffelees stumbled back, feeling his back hit the edge of the piano. "I don't know, where ever you feel like?"

"Let's start with the not dead and trapped in a haunted house for ninety years and end with the photographer who won't _leave_ ," he snarled, a hand landing on either side of the other man.

Eyes widening, Mistoffelees could feel his mind blank as soon as the other came into contact with him, staring up at his expression.

Coricopat's eyes narrowed, "I've been going nuts trapped here, and then you show up and I don't even know what to do.  You're as likely to get stuck here as I am.  There's no way to know.  So what do you do? You walk in here happy as you please and invade what has been all but hallowed to me and you expect me to welcome you?"

"I just want--" Mistoffelees started, still trying to gather his thoughts back up.

"To continue to take these pictures for what purpose?"

"They have a purpose for me," Mistoffelees protested. "Because... I... I want to understand. I want to help and you're just--"

"You want to understand.  You know the last person to tell me that?  The police officer in charge of investigating," Coricopat snarled.

"They apparently did a horrible job," Mistoffelees managed, breathe catching again and still trying to focus.

He growled again, "They were very thorough."

"I'm not sure they had ghosts helping them out though," Mistoffelees said. "I think... those photos I take, I can see them in it, and they're trying to act something out--"

Coricopat's eyes widened and he stepped back, "You can see them?"

"Y-yeah," Mistoffelees said, still braced against the piano.

"That...no one's seen them since, since…"  He stumbled back away from Mistoffelees.

"In the photos," Mistoffelees repeated. "I can, I can see them there. They're vague but I can."

Coricopat drew a deep breath, closing his eyes, "I...please leave."

"No," Mistoffelees protested. "I'm not going to just walk away from this."

His breath was shaky when he drew another one, "Please, I..." He sighed, "Then go ahead and take your pictures. I'll...I'll stay out of your way."

"Are you alright?" Mistoffelees asked, stepping toward him again.

"Why wouldn't I be?  I've just been told that my closest friend is appearing in a complete stranger's photographs when I haven't been able to talk to him in the last 90 years without a Morse code machine."

"I... I can bring them if you like," Mistoffelees managed.

Coricopat dropped his gaze, "I, I don't know. I don't know if I can see them again.  If I should."

"Why shouldn't you?" Mistoffelees asked, stepping forward and raising his hand, hesitating and stopping before he touched the other.

Shying away from the other's hand, the brunet shook his head, "Well, it's part of it isn't it?  Stuck here, alone with the ghosts.  No human contact.  And no idea why."

"Then let me help," Mistoffelees said and this time darted forward to put his hand on Coricopat's chest. "And you can have..."

Coricopat's gaze dropped to his hand, "Have..."  He took a step back, "I should go apologize to them."

"For what?" Mistoffelees asked.

"I have to live with them...and well, I told them to go haunt the greenhouse. The conservatory if you will."

"Is that where they...?" Mistoffelees started to ask and paused, not sure he wanted to.

"I can't answer an unfinished question," Coricopat murmured, more to himself than to the other.

"Well, I don't really want to," he shrugged helplessly. "To ask if they... but the fire out there."

Coricopat nodded, "Yes.  That was the point of the fire.  The...yes."

"Then, that was probably an unkind thing to say," Mistoffelees swallowed, clutching his camera.

"To put it lightly. I don't even know how to begin to apologize to two ghosts. Where would I even start?"

"I'm sorry is a good start," Mistoffelees replied. "And... would I happen to be getting anything like that either?"

"An apology?"  Coricopat blinked, trying to sort out the way to answer.

"Well, you yelled at me too," Mistoffelees said and looked away. "It doesn't matter, never mind."

"No, I..." the brunet drew another breath, "I am sorry."

Mistoffelees paused. "Oh, um..." he took a deep breath. "Do you want me to bring the pictures?"

"If, if you like," Coricopat murmured.

"Only if you would want," Mistoffelees said softly.

"I don't know what I want in that regard."

"Well, if you figure it out," Mistoffelees started and stopped. "I mean, I just..."

"You just?  I...would you, that is, I don't know if the stairs will hold me yet, but have you been upstairs thoroughly?"

"Not, not thoroughly, but I think I saw all the rooms," Mistoffelees murmured. "Is there something I should have been looking for in particular?"

He shook his head, "I...I don't think so."

Mistoffelees frowned. "Al-alright?"

"There, I mean there's the attic. And the south bedroom at the east end of the hall," Coricopat answered after a moment.

"Should I go there?" Mistoffelees asked, not entirely sure he wanted to see what was in those places.

"Well, there's not much to see in the south bedroom, though there might be more with the camera. The attic, I don't know what's up there, I haven't been able to get in during all these years," he admitted after a moment.

Mistoffelees blinked. "Would you like to come with me?" he offered, unsure how to feel.

"I, I don't know if I can."

"To the bedroom then?" he offered.

Coricopat hesitated at that before offering a wan smile and nodding, "Yes, follow me."

"Thanks," Mistoffelees murmured.

The brunet nodded slightly, stepping into the foyer to be greeted by flaring lights that passed him and the piano shortly sounded rather like someone was attacking it.  He spoke to the stairs, "I'm leading him up the front stairs, I'm sorry I said what I did. I'll apologize to Munkustrap when he quiets down, alright?"

The stairs waved for a second and then remained solid. "I think that's a yes, right?"

"That's a he'll let us go up, but I'll probably have to be more abject this evening," Coricopat responded, his tone landing between resigned, fond, and exasperated as he started up the stairs, keeping a hand on the banister as he climbed.

"I hear being abject can be good for you," Mistoffelees offered, glancing over at him as he went up the stairs, holding hard to the railing. "Must be interesting to have a friend for ninety years."

"Oh, years longer than that," Coricopat answered as he stepped onto the solid floor at the top of the stairs.

"How'd you meet?" Mistoffelees asked, sounding mostly idle.

"First day of school.  He walked up to me and told me we were friends."

Mistoffelees laughed. "I... actually, I could oddly imagine that."

"He certainly hasn't mellowed with age," Coricopat responded with a bit of a smile.

Laughing, Mistoffelees glanced over at him. "Well, I suppose there are good things about that?"

"Well, it means I know it's him," the brunet chuckled, leading the way down the hall and pushing open the southern bedroom.

Mistoffelees paused as he looked around the room, where sheets were pulled half off the bed, dust lying thick over everything. "I shouldn't be surprised anymore," he murmured, looking around.

"Surprised by..?"  Coricopat glanced at him, moving over to the window and struggling with it for a moment before he got it open.

"How destroyed everything is," he murmured. "Except... um, the west bedroom."

The other man paused, turning around, "You've been in there?"

"Was I not supposed to?" he asked. "I was... checking all the rooms."

"No, it...I would appreciate if you didn't go back there, but you could hardly know that I suppose," he turned away again, his gaze focusing on the overgrown garden and the burned conservatory.

"Is that where you sleep?" Mistoffelees asked, remembered the piano and blushed.

"Yes, it was the one room I could stand to live in after..."

"What was the room before?" Mistoffelees asked, managing a photo of Coricopat looking out the window before stepping out of the doorway.

"A guest room.  It had been empty for ages," he answered, turning away from the window and following Mistoffelees out of the room.

"Where did you used to stay?" Mistoffelees asked, unsure why he was still asking.

"Not in the house. I stayed in the gardener's house when I stayed here at all."

"So you didn't live here?" Mistoffelees asked, approaching the attic.

His brows rose and he couldn't help but laugh at that, "No."

"Oh," Mistoffelees paused. "Well, I hope you liked the house anyway."

"It's...well, it's always been imposing.  And the grounds have their merits."

"Can you go out to any of them?" Mistoffelees asked, pulling the ladder down and scurrying up toward the attic

Coricopat nodded, hesitating before starting up the ladder after the other, "Yes."

"Well, that's something than," Mistoffelees said, looking around the attic, opening a few boxes and coughing at the smell of must and mold, many of the papers having been wrecked by the humidity.

Pausing under the entrance, Coricopat took a tentative step into the attic, blinking when he could cross the threshold, "I haven’t been up here before.  I don't know how the floor is. Go careful."

Nodding, Mistoffelees blinked as the ladder rattled, annoyed by the state of the boxes. "Yeah. What all was up here?" he asked, pausing at a stack of old records.

"I don't know. Family records and things is my guess.  They left pretty quick after, well after."

"After the fire?" Mistoffelees asked. "How many people died?"

"Three," Coricopat answered softly.

Mistoffelees blinked, having not expected to hear an actual fact."So why are there only two ghosts?"

"I don't know. I've asked myself that question over and over."

"Or the other one is really quiet," Mistoffelees said, shifting through several boxes, pausing at a blanket chest.

Coricopat shook his head, "He wasn't quiet in life, I doubt he would be in death."

Looking over at him, Mistoffelees lifted an old scrapbook, surprisingly unharmed considered the rest of the contents, flipping through some of the photos, pausing at the sight of Macavity and Munkustrap. "Was he the gardener?" he asked, tilting his head.

Moving over to the other's side and looking down at the picture, Coricopat nodded, "Yes, he was. Happiest I think I'd ever seen him was while he was working here."

"Because of love?" Mistoffelees asked, glancing up and looking down just as abruptly.

"Maybe. I don't know, he certainly said that was it."

"I hope so," Mistoffelees said, closing the book and tucking it under his arm. "You seem able to talk about it more."

"I suppose it takes the right questions, but I don't know.  I've never been able to talk about it.  Not even with them, really. At least not enough to, well, think it through." Corciopat rolled his shoulder in a half shrug.

Mistoffelees sat on a chest, testing it before allowing his full weight to rest there. "Talk to me about it then."

Coricopat leaned against the wall, considering the photographer, "I, I don't know how much I can tell you.  How much I'm allowed to, or able to.  Munkustrap was the Fletcher heir.  He fell in love with their gardener, or they both said and thought they were in love.  Macavity Hollister worked for the family for a good long while, and was head over heels for Munkustrap. I never understood it."

“You never understood the idea of head over heels love or why them?"

"Them. I just, there are so many people that I could have understood Macavity with, but why he chose Munkustrap I never will see."

"Didn't like him so much?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head the other way, taking a few shots of the light tilting through the attic and Coricopat.

"Do you remember the part where I said he was the heir to this estate and the family fortune?" Coricopat responded, arching a brow.

"Well, yes, but rich people aren't all bad, though I could understand why you have a dislike for Tugger Fletcher."

"It was a mistake for them to even try.  Munkustrap and I never saw eye to eye, and it's the one area I couldn't, it just...I've wished Macavity had listened to me. Wished nothing quite so much as that for decades."

"Hindsight," Mistoffelees murmured. "I'm sorry."

Coricopat shrugged, "So am I.  But here I am, stuck in a house with two ghosts."

"What would you do?" Mistoffelees asked, looking around again. "If you could leave?"

"I have no idea anymore," the brunet answered with a sigh. "Years ago?  I would have tried to finish my life without my best friend, and probably would have managed to do it to.  Now?  God only knows."

"Do you know what's kept you here?" Mistoffelees asked, trying to push down the urge to take another photo of him.

Coricopat ran a hand through his hair, resting his head in his hands, "I don't even remember what happened, how could I know what's kept me here?"

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said softly.

"Oh God, please don't apologize."

"Why not?" he asked, rising again. "I just... I wish I could help. Somehow."

"Well, you're the first human I've spoken to in decades, so that's something," the other responded, still not looking up.

Mistoffelees smiled faintly. "Then I'm glad I could have done something."

Coricopat offered him a bit of a smile, "You really probably ought to be on your way though."

Mistoffelees glanced out the window, eyes widening at how late it had gotten. "Oh. I should..."

"I'll be fine.  Though I'll be following close on your heels down the ladder I think," he admitted, getting to his feet.

"Seems wise," Mistoffelees offered him a smile before heading down the ladder and turning toward the door.

Coricopat was as good as his word, stepping off the ladder right behind the other and following him to the top of the stairs, "You'll pardon me for not seeing you out today, I hope. I owe some apologies before I risk the stairs again."

Laughing, Mistoffelees reached forward before he stopped and nodded. "A wise choice. I'll..." he paused again. "I'll see you again than."

"Take care, and do let me know what comes of the photographs you took today," the taller man murmured with a slight smile.

"I'll be sure to," Mistoffelees returned the smile before slipping out the door, closing it softly behind him.

Coricopat leaned on the banister, sighing heavily before addressing the light that had lit further down the hall and the general direction of the main stairs, "I am sorry.  You both know I didn't mean what I said. I wouldn't wish either of you to the greenhouse in honesty."

The stairs rippled again and fell still.


	3. Are You Going to Risk It?

Griddlebone entered the studio the next morning, "Misto? I brought food."

He poked his head out and blinked at her. "Food? Really?"

"I'm assuming you haven't been doing paying work, so yes, I've got food for you," she answered.

"So do you mean like actual dinner sort of food or grocery sorts of food?" Mistoffelees frowned at the bag she was carrying.

"Some breakfast food and some grocery food too.  Any new photos?"

"Lots of new photos," he said, glancing down at the one in his hands, the one of Coricopat looking out the window.

She frowned when she spotted the pictures, "You've been back again."

"You can’t be surprised," he arched a brow at her. "You know, I did get paid yesterday."

"No, but I am worried.  And you got paid?  Really?" she asked, truly surprised at that news.

"I've been doing actual work too," he said, shaking his head. "I haven't just been doing this."

Griddlebone offered him a bit of a smile, "I know, you have been spending a lot of time on this though." He flailed the picture at her as if that explained everything.

She took it and studied it for a long moment, "This...this is a good angle." Not to mention what it could say about the photographer's thoughts about the model.

"I can't just... walk away now," he added, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"Have, you, um, talked to Tugger at all lately? Like, since he went there with me?" Mistoffelees asked, looking at the picture again.

"He rather quickly changed the subject when I brought it up.  He was spooked."  She set the picture down again, "I want to know what's going on.  What's got him so creped out."

He paused before shrugging slightly. "Alright, come on then," he said, motioning her into the next work room, where he had laid out all the photos of the house that showed the two ghosts, except the one from the South bedroom.

She blinked at them, picking up one from the room with the piano and examining it, "I thought you said there was only one person at that house."

"There is," he said and paused. "Probably alive anyway."

Griddlebone's eyes widened, "Tell me these are double exposures?"

"Not so far as I can tell," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "And Coricopat and flashing lights and disappearing stairs all point toward ghosts."

"So," she tilted her head on one side, picking up another couple, "Who are they?"

"Well, apparently ninety year old ghost lovers, I think," he said.

"That...wow. I'm going with you next time, right?" Griddlebone informed him, still looking through the pictures.

 "If you like," he said, reorganizing a few of the pictures. "I think this might be at least somewhat the right order, of events, that led to the fire..."

"I would like.  I'd, well I'd like to see about this place you've found so fascinating.  These pictures...you think the ghosts are trying to tell you the story?"

"No one else can," Mistoffelees said, "I mean, the man, Coricopat, he can't actually talk about it. And there's no news and all the records are gone. There is no way they can tell their story otherwise, but they keep leading me around the house."

"That, wow.  I think I'd like to meet this lot," Griddlebone murmured, considering the photos again.

"I think that's a scary thought," Mistoffelees murmured but nodded. "You're allowed to come though."

She offered him a bit of a smile, "Thank you."

"Well you brought me food," Mistoffelees shrugged and smiled at her.

Ruffling his hair, Griddlebone stepped back, "Let's see about some of that food then."

"You're feeding me?" he grinned. "I can never say no to that. Is there prepared food or does this involve cooking?"

"It's prepared," she answered with a laugh as she pulled the food out of one of the bags she'd brought.

"Oh thank god," he laughed, trying to get his head out of the pictures for a minute.

o-o-o-o

A couple of days later found them entering the grounds of the Fletcher estate.  Griddlebone's eyes flickered around as they crossed the front lawn to the porch and entered the house.  The light right beside the door flickered to light, flaring slightly brighter than usual next to Griddlebone's head. Startling slightly, she glanced at Mistoffelees.

Mistoffelees considered that. "We just won't try the stairs at first."

"The stairs?"  Grids looked uncertain at that, but turned as the lights lit closer to the piano room.

"They sorta dumped Tugger on the ground when he tried going up them," Mistoffelees shrugged, unconcerned as he took his camera out.

She blinked, but nodded, "So they didn't much like him then?"  The piano started playing, sounding almost affirmative in its response to the question.

"No, something about being related," Mistoffelees said, aiming to capture Griddlebone by the piano.

"That would do it. So, who's who, do you know?" Her gaze moved to the piano, "That's a little eerie, but beautiful music."

"That would be Munkustrap, far as I can tell," Mistoffelees replied. "He was actually the Fletcher heir."

The piano trilled at that, agreeing with that assessment. "You talk through the piano then?" Griddlebone asked the piano and received the same sound in response.

"The other one seems to know Morse code," Mistoffelees said. "And slams doors."

A nearby door rattled at that.

Griddlebone startled, looking in the direction of the door, and then looking past to where footsteps could be heard echoing from upstairs.  Coricopat's voice was heard moments later, "Mistoffelees?  Is that you?"

"I told you I would be back," Mistoffelees called upward, turning expectantly to the stairs.

The brunet reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the room with a smile, but paused when he saw Griddlebone, "Oh, you brought a guest."

The woman turned to face him, offering a hand, "You must be Coricopat."

"Oh that bodes well.  You have me at a disadvantage," he neither sounded nor looked like he much cared for that fact.

Mistoffelees glanced between them. "Well, as my assistant and business manager, she has a habit of snooping around my prints. Coricopat, this is Griddlebone."

He finally shook Griddlebone's hands, "So you've seen the photographs of them then."

She nodded, "Misto showed them to me, yes."

Mistoffelees glanced between them, trying to figure out if he was supposed to have done that or not.

Coricopat's expression shuttered off slightly at that, "And what did they show you?"

"An unfinished tale of forbidden romance."

He rolled his eyes, "That's one way of describing these two."

"Probably the kindest," Mistoffelees murmured, looking around before angling Coricopat and Griddlebone and the piano into the same shot, moving around the room as he let them acquaint themselves and talk.

Talking was one way to describe their interaction, though Coricopat seemed wary at best about Griddlebone, and quite possibly a hair jealous, which the piano was quick to trill about.  The brunet offered the invisible musician a dark look, but he'd given his word to both Macavity and Munkustrap that they wouldn't have a repeat of his last shouting fit for at least another few months.

Mistoffelees paused when the piano trilled. "What?" he frowned at it and looked over at Coricopat's look.

"Nothing, he's making assumptions and accusations again.  Which I think we had both agreed not to do after the last incident," he directed his second sentence at the piano which offered him a couple of chords in response and gained a roll of his eyes for the effort.  Griddlebone's brows arched at that, but she opted to stay quiet about the ghost at the piano.

The door leading to the next room slammed violently though and Mistoffelees jumped. "Right," he said under his breath. "Okay. Can you, um, not do that?"

Quivering quietly, the door swung back and forth without slamming. "Great, thanks."

Griddlebone startled, her gaze darting to the door and then to Mistoffelees.  Coricopat spoke, addressing the visitors, "Did you _both_ come for a particular reason?"

Glancing at him, the woman shrugged slightly, "I wanted to meet the beings that had been taking up so much of Mistoffelees’ attention. Or meet you all as much as I can."

"Well, I'd feel bad leaving you alone now," Mistoffelees shrugged slightly, not quite meeting Coricopat's eyes.

The brunet blinked at him at that before offering him a faint smile, "Thank you for the sentiment, but you needn't return on my account."

"Well, I'm not sure what else I would do," he shrugged. "I like it here, remember?"

"Well, I'm not going to bar you from the premises, and I won't say it isn’t nice to have you around here from time to time," Coricopat admitted, having just about forgotten Griddlebone was there.

"You won't bar me?" Mistoffelees smiled. "What about anyone else?"

His lips curled upward at that, "Well, I apparently have no say in who gets in this house, though the ghosts do, so that's something to take into account."

Mistoffelees' brows quirked up. "Would you have kicked out Griddlebone?" he asked, glancing at her and back.

Coricopat looked toward where she was examining the torn wallpaper and the dusty curtains.  He considered the question and shrugged slightly, "Probably not, but I might have asked for more warning about her being here."

"That would require Grids to come with warnings, which just doesn't happen," Mistoffelees shook his head. "Besides, it's not like I can give you a call or anything and she did insist I not come alone this time."

"Which is probably wise of her, though considering how they reacted to your other friend..."

"Well, I checked," Mistoffelees grinned. "She's not the heir of any tragedy nor annoying as all get out."

That finally garnered a quiet laugh, "Good. She should be fine then."

"They seem content with her here," Mistoffelees said and paused, realizing how odd it was to talk about ghosts in such a manner. "I mean... she doesn't seem to anger either of them and you could all do with more socializing."

"Munkustrap seems to like her well enough," Coricopat remarked, nodding toward where the lights had come on enough to illuminate what Griddlebone was examining as she considered angles and the details of the room.  "And Macavity's been relatively quiet, though that may be for liking you as much as anything."

"I'm sure that's sweet of him," Mistoffelees laughed.

Smiling, Coricopat glanced at the last door Macavity had been using to voice his presence, "You hear that, Mac?  He thinks you're being sweet." The door quivered again and the stairs flattened out as if Macavity really wasn't sure what to do with that.

That earned a laugh from the brunet, "It's a good thing, Mac."  He glanced at Mistoffelees for confirmation, "After all it implies you at least don't mind him, doesn't it?"

"Why would I mind him?" Mistoffelees frowned.

"He's Mac, he's not the easiest to get on with, even if he is and has been my best friend for more than a century."

"Or you're just being too hard on him," Mistoffelees shrugged, glancing at the stairs. "I mean, he seems a nice enough fellow."

The stairs perked but didn't fully return to their stair like nature.

"He is, was," Coricopat shook his head, "Is. Also loyal to a fault."

"Loyalty is underrated," Mistoffelees said quietly, unsure where to look.

The other offered a quirk of his lips at that, "Only in some circles."

"Most of them in today's society," Mistoffelees shrugged.

Blinking at that, Coricopat shook his head as though rattling the vestiges of his own era out of it, "Of course.  I forget how much the world's changed while I've been here."

"In some ways," Mistoffelees said, sounding wary. "There's a lot of things that haven't changed at all."

"In ninety years? What have people been doing in the interim?"

Griddlebone approached at that moment, answering, "Fighting wars and making laws to enable certain people rights."

"Certain people?"  Coricopat asked, glancing over toward her.

"Mostly those who didn't have them.  Huge civil rights movements in the 1960s."

"Oh yeah," Mistoffelees nodded, ticking off several groups with his fingers. "No more discrimination for being female or gay or of a different ethnic group. In theory, anyway, there's still bullying and stuff and different pay grades but it's generally better now."

Coricopat's brows rose sharply at that, "No discrimination?  You mean they legalized homosexuality?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod and the stairs rippled again.

The piano trilled and the lights flickered as Coricopat leaned against the wall, "I...Good heavens, really? That, that I'm surprised changed at all."

"It took a while, and I mean, it's taking time. But you can even be gay in the military now," Mistoffelees smiled. "It's legal to get married in some states."

The brunet shook his head slightly, "I... goodness."

Griddlebone smiled faintly at the two of them, "It may take time for some things to sink in."

Mistoffelees paused, realizing the way Griddlebone was smiling at him and blushed. "Yeah, I mean, it's been taking a long time."

"But it is progressing," she supplied.  Glancing at Coricopat she addressed him, "On a different note, is the house safe?  As in solid and secure?"

The brunet nodded, "It is.  Nothing's broken in all these years."

"Good."

Mistoffelees considered her. "Thanks for not trusting me on that."

"I'm just double checking," she protested.

"It's good thing to do, but no it's quite safe," Coricopat assured.

"I've even been up to the attic you know," Mistoffelees said, still sounding sulky.

Griddlebone sighed, shaking her head, "I know, I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to put your foot through somewhere you hadn't actually stepped yet."

He gave her a long look. "I'm fine," he drawled.

"Shall I leave you to explore then?" she asked with a bit of a smile and a look toward the front door.

"I mean, what?" he blinked at her. "If you're done here, I'd certainly like to take some more pictures."

Griddlebone shrugged, "I think I'll get a better feel for the place through your pictures.  Besides, you've almost got enough photos for a show now, so I should start seeing about venues and layouts and things for that."

"S-show?" Mistoffelees blinked wide eyes at her.

"Even just of the general house.  You know the castle went well, and this house has local historical value in addition."

"Yeah, but," he darted a look to Coricopat.

Coricopat frowned, "It's up to you, but if it brings more people out here I will tell you now that I won't be pleased in the least.  And I would rather my photographs not show up in public, thank you."

"None of them?" Mistoffelees asked, taking a deep breath.

"It...would lead to rather difficult questions at the best."

"Like what?" Mistoffelees asked, "You could have just been a model that showed up at the house."

Coricopat looked skeptical, "And if they do ask questions?"

"What would they ask?" Mistoffelees asked, frowning. "The art world tends not to pry, I mean, at least not in my shows. It's about artistry, not the people."

"Which pictures would you show?" He asked after another moment.

"Mostly the house, I think, I haven't even thought about it before," he said, shooting a look at Griddlebone. "But there's a least one of you that... that I would like to show."

Coricopat hesitated, "I...That, if you think there won't be questions."

Griddlebone glanced from one to the other, "We can keep them to a minimum."

"It shouldn't be a problem but I won't... if you really don't want me too," Mistoffelees shook his head. "Though, god, as an artist I want to."

"If..." Coricopat drew a deep breath, "I think it should be alright."

"You're just--" Mistoffelees started and cut himself off.

Griddlebone slipped past Coricopat and wandered into the foyer, leaving them nominally alone.  Coricopat glanced in that direction before turning his full attention to the other man, his tone guarded, "I'm what?"

"You're just, um, well, in the different shots and ..."

"If, if you need to show more than one then I suppose it might be alright."

Mistoffelees took a deep breath, deciding he might as well say it. "You're just really beautiful in some of them," he added, ducking his head down.

Coricopat froze at that, eyes wide, "You...you really think, I mean I... thank you?"

"I could show you, if you like," he said, still looking down.

The brunet drew a breath, taking a step nearer and reaching out to put a hand on the other's cheek, "If you like."

Mistoffelees' eyes widened. "Um, well, yeah?"

He smiled faintly, "I would like to see them, then."

"I-I'll bring them by," he managed.

"Thank you," He drew his hand away.

Mistoffelees gave him a shaky smile. "Yeah, so we'll do that then. I'll bring them by soon and..."

"And I look forward to seeing them. How did the last set turn out?"

"Good," Mistoffelees said and blushed again. "Um, there's that thing with the Southern bedroom though. Where they..."

Coricopat blushed slightly that time as well, "That was Munkustrap's bedroom when they were alive."

"Well, the images, um, show that," Mistoffelees said, glancing at the piano. "Which I'm not really sure I can show in public anyway."

"In public, no I can't see that as being entirely appropriate," the brunet chuckled slightly.

"Not quite what I was expecting but there you have it," Mistoffelees shrugged.

"But the other pictures?  You think those could be shown?"

"Most of them," he murmured. "It'd be very artistic, to tell a story through something that looked like ghosts."

"How much of the story do you think you have with the photographs?" Coricopat asked, considering the room around them.

"Most? I don't know, I haven't been able to get out to the conservatory after all," he murmured. "But, besides that."

"You...right, you can't go out the back door, can you? We could try to see if you can cross the threshold with someone at some point if you like."

"Are you offering?" Mistoffelees asked, wavering between leaning forward.

Coricopat offered a smile, "If you're taking me up on it?"

"It would be useful," Mistoffelees said and looked around. "Perhaps next time?" he said, suddenly unaccountably nervous.

"Probably the best idea," he glanced toward the foyer where he could hear Griddlebone moving around.

"I, I wanted to check upstairs," Mistoffelees said. "But you should talk to Griddlebone again for a while."

Coricopat offered him a long look, but finally nodded, "Very well, I'll go speak with her while you explore."

"You're rather similar in some ways you know," Mistoffelees said. "Besides, you need more friends."

"Alright," he offered a bit of a smile at that, "I'll go talk to her.  Enjoy your picture taking."

"I always do," he grinned.

Coricopat's lips quirked upward before he slipped out of the room to talk to Griddlebone and give her a bit of a tour of the downstairs at least.

Mistoffelees took off for the upstairs, heading for the room with the Morse code machine, sliding down in front of it with the translation of Morse code he printed out and a notepad.

"So, Macavity," he said, frowning at it. "Anything to say?"

There was a pause and then several slow taps, speeding up as Macavity noticed Mistoffelees being able to write it down before going to translate it.

"Tell the story," he read slowly and looked up. "We want to be free." He paused, frowning. "Free?"

Moments later the machine started going again. "There's a curse here, and it's time for it to go--" Mistoffelees read. "But, what about Coricopat? Are you sure you and Munkustrap are ready?"

"Cor has you," Mistoffelees translated and blushed. "No, he, I mean," he shut up as the machine tapped again. "Munkustrap and I have been waiting for a while now. With the curse broken we can be free and Coricopat will be mortal again and able to leave."

Mistoffelees sat there for a long moment, trying to absorb all of that. "Will he really be alright without you though?" he asked, looking around.

"It's time to move on," he said, looking at his translation again. "He's strong enough to survive it and--would you stop saying he has me? I'm not sure what you mean and I don't know how he actually feels about that."

o-o-o-o

Griddlebone turned from where she'd been examining the light fixtures and their forms in the foyer as Coricopat entered the room, "Where's Mistoffelees?"

The brunet rolled a shoulder, "He said he wanted to take more pictures upstairs and recommended I talk to you."

"Talk to me?  What for?"

"He claims we're rather similar."

She laughed, "Similar then.  Oh Mistoffelees, that sounds rather a lot like him. But I am kinda glad I've got you alone now."

"Oh that doesn't sound intimidating at all," Coricopat murmured.

"I was wanting to ask you what you thought about him.  Because frankly, I'm pretty sure you're the reason he's been coming back so much.  I mean, yes it's a really nice house and the ghosts are...nice, but..."

"What I think about him? Well, he-he's nice.  He's, charming."

"And?"

Coricopat frowned at her, "And what do you want me to say?"

"Well, 'nice' 'charming'?  Those are sweet, but really, honestly, what do you think of him? You can be frank.  And I'd rather you were."

"I don't see that it's your business."

"I'm claiming best friend of Mistoffelees rights here," She crossed her arms, leaning against the bottom post of the stairs' banister.

"He's handsome, and I like having him around.  He...I don't know how much it really matters actually.  I'm stuck here and I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Mistoffelees meandered out from the room with the Morse code in time to hear those last lines, and he paused, leaning against the banister. The light next to him flickered and Griddlebone looked up in that direction, offering him a grin, "I'll go wait in the car. Don't be too long."

"I'm sure I won't be," Mistoffelees said, starting down the stairs.

The woman slipped out, ignoring the look Coricopat shot her.  The brunet turned back to Mistoffelees, grey eyes wide.

A crease between his brows, Mistoffelees stopped in front of Coricopat. "What would you do if you could leave here?" he asked, more focused on his conversation with Macavity than what he overheard.

"There's no point in that question," Coricopat answered, not quite harsh but close. "I _can't._ "

"But if you could?" Mistoffelees asked, stepping up to him and tilting his head back.

"I-I don't know.  I've been here for so long, the world's passed me right by."

"You could always catch up," Mistoffelees offered.

Coricopat considered him for a long moment, "I, I could.  I just, you ask what I would do.  I have no way to answer you because I don't know this world any longer."

Mistoffelees continued to frown but he nodded. "I could show you," he said softly.

"You...you would do that?"

"Of course I would," Mistoffelees said, finally offering him a smile, though looking like he couldn’t believe the other would find that fact in question.

The smile he got in return was uncertain, "Thank you for the thought.  But as I said, it's rather pointless as I can't leave."

"Do you have any idea of how you could?" Mistoffelees asked.

"No.  I've tried, but I've never figured anything out," Coricopat sighed, dropping his gaze.

"If someone else could... would you want to?" Mistoffelees asked, frown coming back.

"Would I want to leave?  To walk down the street again? I...yes." He didn't sound as certain as he could have, but it was a big question in his mind.

"Okay," Mistoffelees said softly and nodded, turning to leave.

Coricopat blinked, "What...what brought these questions on?"

"I," Mistoffelees wavered. "I just wanted to know," he said, lying badly.

The brunet glanced away, nodding, "A-alright.  Take care, Mistoffelees."

"You too," Mistoffelees murmured.

Hesitating for another moment, Coricopat retreated back up the stairs to his room, closing the door firmly and ignoring the way the lights flickered after him.

o-o-o-o

Mistoffelees settled into his car, pausing for a long moment with his hands on the steering wheel. "We're doing a show," he said, not looking at Griddlebone yet.

"And which photos will we be showing at this show?" His assistant asked, glancing at him.

"The ghosts," Mistoffelees replied. "I need to take more pictures but we have to start."

"Then the ghosts it is.  I'll start calling around for a place for the show.  Our usual gallery's booked through next year," she remarked, already running down the list of other places in her mind.

"A different venue might be better," Mistoffelees agreed.

"So, I'll start making calls, I need an estimate on space we'll need, and we’ll see about laying them out and planning the show and we could have it going in...what, a month?  Maybe sooner if I can find a place."

He nodded. "I'll start estimating prints tonight."

"Good.  And you'll need to get those last pictures done soon too," Grids said.  "This is something that needs to be shown, isn't it?"

"When a ghost tells you they're ready to move on and to have the curse broken I think it's about time to have a show, yeah," he said, still not looking over as he pulled out of the drive way.

"...Curse.  You mean the thing that's kept Coricopat there and young for the last ninety years?"

"Yeah," Mistoffelees murmured.

“What happens to him if this is broken?" she glanced at Mistoffelees again.

"According... to the ghost, he'd be, well, mortal again, and free to leave..."

"Does he want that?"

"I think so," Mistoffelees said and swallowed. "He said so. But I'm worried... he'd be over a hundred now. What if he doesn't just start aging again but--"

"But ages faster?" she offered. "It's a possibility.  Do any of them know what the curse actually is?"

"No," he said, voice strained. "Macavity asks like he has some idea and it's not just aging faster but instantly that I'd be worried about."

Griddlebone looked over at him, "Instantly would be, well, a problem. It... you're going to risk it?"

"I don't," he said and looked ready to hit the steering wheel. "I don't know. I can't..."

"MIsto, I need to know if you're going to take this risk before I think about calling galleries to pitch this show," she offered quietly.  "But beyond that, I need to know if you can make it if you do risk it and it turns out to be true."

"I don't," he started again and took a deep breath. "My own possible feelings and a straight up request from two people to be set free. I can't even begin."

"Oh, Misto... I wish I knew what to tell you.  Some sort of way we could know that it would turn out alright,” Griddlebone murmured softly, watching him.

"I guess I'll just have to hope, won't I?" Mistoffelees murmured. "Or I could drag a new bed in there and convince him it was okay to watch me grow old when I can only stop by."

"You wouldn't do that, and we both know it.  Not with two people hoping for freedom."

I'm sorta more scared by the fact I'm even considering it as a thought," Mistoffelees admitted quietly.

"You may have to do it yet.  We don't know if the show will work," she reminded gently.

"I'm considering trying to move in with someone who lives alone in a crumbling house from the nineteen twenties and I don't even know if he _likes_ me all that much yet," Mistoffelees said, barely fighting back a panic attack as he drove.

Her lips curled, "He likes you. That much is obvious, but the wisdom of moving into a crumbling house is where I'm drawing up short."

"I just..." he took a deep breath. "I'm not sure what I might do without him. Which is insane, oh god I'm going insane."

"That's rather a worrying thought.  The not sure bit, not the insane part. You'd find a way to make it though, I think.  But maybe you won't have to.  In fact, probably you won't have to."

"And if I do?" he asked, voice strained.

"Then Tugger and I will be there to help you through it as much as you'll let us.  You'll come out the other side of this one way or another, Misto," Griddlebone murmured, hoping she sounded more sure than she suddenly felt.

He glanced over at her and back to the road. "Thanks. I think. I'll say thanks and hope then."


	4. But I Want to be Able to Free You Too

Griddlbone hung up the phone, crossing off another name on her list and leaned back in her chair, but stopped from calling out to Mistoffelees when she saw him on the phone as well.  She turned back to her desk and picked up her phone again to dial the next number on her list.

Tugger breezed in, pausing. "Wait, oh god, you're in show mode. What are we showing?"

The woman offered him a grin, setting the phone aside, "We're showing Mistoffelees' photos of the house.  He's not quite done, but I think another trip out there will probably get him the last prints he needs."

"Seriously? You're showing those photos?" Tugger asked, bristling at the idea until Mistoffelees started yelling at the phone. "Is he sure that's a really good idea?"

Griddlebone looked down, "He's worried about what it could mean in the end."

"How do you mean?" Tugger asked, sitting across from her at the table and glancing over at his friend.

"Macavity got in contact with him.  Told him that their story being told was the key to breaking the curse and freeing them.  We just, we don't know what that could do to Coricopat," she glanced toward where Mistoffelees was, sighing softly.

"And that's an issue for him?" Tugger quirked a brow.

"He was talking about setting up a cot there," Griddlebone murmured, turning back to him.

Tugger blinked. "At that old--he remembers that's sorta my house right? Or my family's house. Whatever. There is a creepy guy haunting my house with ghosts and Misto's falling, what, in love with him?"

"That, well, that's about the sum of it, yes."

Tugger blinked again. "You're looking remarkably undisturbed by this."

"I had my chance to get freaked about it already," she responded.

"Well that's sweet of you," Tugger muttered. "Not allowing me to be in on that original freak out. Alright, so what's going on with creepy guy in my house?"

"He's actually not that creepy once you talk to him." Griddlebone picked up a pencil and started fiddling with it, "He cares about Misto, and our little photographer is pretty well head over heels for him...or most of the way there."

"He's talking about a cot in a crumbling building," Tugger protested, glancing at where Mistoffelees was still yelling.

"It's still solid, the floors are sound and the roof doesn't leak," Grids offered, turning her chair slightly so she could watch both of them.

"Right, with broken windows a lack of door and hygiene problems."

"I'm just saying.  He cares about him.  A lot. I'm just trying to get it across to you how much."

"I'm still finding it difficult," Tugger shook his head.

"Either way, Mistoffelees has fallen for him.  And if this curse breaks, Coricopat's lived in what amounts to a suspended state for ninety years."

"Which would mean what, exactly?" Tugger asked.

She looked toward where Mistoffelees was again, "It means that there's a chance that he could come through unscathed, but there's also a very real chance that he could die.  As in age and dissipate.  As in immediately."

"And Misto, who's falling in love with him, is going to start that basically?"

"Because there's two people asking to be free," Griddlebone nodded.

"And he's just that noble, isn't he?" Tugger sighed as Mistoffelees slammed the phone down.

"It's Mistoffelees, are you surprised?"

"Not really. So, what poor sod did you just yell out?" Tugger asked and Mistoffelees just groaned at him.

"Another gallery turned the pitch down on my end.  I've got three more to call and then I'll have to see about a new list," Griddlebone offered to him.

"That would be nice. Are you sure our usual is booked? Do you think you could like, threaten the people planning on using it out?" Mistoffelees groaned.

Grids considered that and then nodded, "I can certainly see about it, maybe they've had a cancellation."

"I will go begging to them," Mistoffelees offered and grinned at Tugger, who waved back at him.

"And we know that would work, because you've done it before," his assistant responded with a quiet, slightly forced laugh.

"It worked once!" Mistoffelees protested.

Tugger snorted. "Sure it did. Threatening the clients and all."

"So we'll see if they've got an opening or if we can get them to have an opening and we'll get that set.  I need an estimate on time so I can do that," Griddlebone said.

"I'll go tomorrow," Mistoffelees said. "It... hopefully will be set after that."

"I'll see if I can get it arranged for next week then, at least for the opening."

"Thanks," he said, giving her a tired smile and Tugger moved over, massaging his shoulders.

"You're border lining on the very tense."

Mistoffelees groaned. "I've long since stopped bordering and am much more on the very tense," he said, sagging backwards.

Griddlebone rose and poured a cup of tea, setting it down by Mistoffelees' hand, "Drink this when he's done massaging your shoulders."

"It's not--" Mistoffelees started to protest.

"It's entirely that bad," Tugger said. "I haven't seen you in a relationship in over a year, I know how you react to these things."

"'s not a relationship," Mistoffelees managed.

"But you want it to be," Grids admonished.

"Don't know if he does," Mistoffelees pointed out and Tugger rolled his eyes behind him.

Griddlebone shook her head at him, "So ask him.  What part of this is so hard?"

"He's from the nineteen twenties?" Mistoffelees offered. "I don't think he even likes me? He's just scary anyway?"

"And you like him because...?" Tugger offered.

"Misto...trust me.  He likes you," Griddlebone settled back in her chair.

"How can you tell that?" Mistoffelees demanded.

"Because I talked to him about you?  Remember the 'you should talk to her' bit you gave him?"

"Oh, I, um," Mistoffelees blinked. "But, he could have just been... playing nice."

Behind him, Tugger covered his face with one hand and sighed.

Griddlebone offered Mistoffelees a long, skeptical look and a dry "Right.  Of course.  Because he had so many reasons to lie to me about that."

"You're a scary woman, Grids," Mistoffelees murmured.

"Actually, I can't disagree with that," Tugger shrugged.

"So, it then follows that Coricopat would have enough sense to tell me the truth then, right?" She leaned back in her chair, accepting the comments from both of them without batting an eyelid.

"Or he's sucking up to you," Tugger pointed out and Mistoffelees nodded. "Not that I'm encouraging your insecurities here, Misto, geesh. Just kiss the guy. The worst he can do is show you the door again."

"I'm with Tugger.  He told me he likes having you around. And then he went on about something regarding not wishing anyone else to be trapped in that house so it didn't matter one way or the other, which was extremely defeatist of him, but I didn't get the chance to tell him that because you showed up then."

Mistoffelees blinked and Tugger laughed. "Oh god, tell me they aren't both defeatist."

"I don't like you anymore," Mistoffelees sulked.

Griddlebone offered Tugger a long-suffering look, "If my brief conversation with the other one was anything to go by?"

"They'll never get together," Tugger groaned.

"I'm sitting right here," Mistoffelees protested.

"Tugger's right.  Unless one of you gets over this particular brand of 'this can't happen' nothing's going to happen.  At all."

"It... well... the twenties!" Mistoffelees stammered. "Have any of you actually researched the twenties?"

"Oh, is this why you haven't been sleeping and there are odd books about the bee's knee littering your floor?" Tugger asked, glancing over at him.

Griddlebone stared at Mistoffelees for a long moment, "Which part of the twenties are we talking about here? I haven't done much, but I've done some."

"I don't know, late twenties, and I know his best friend was sleeping with a guy but you haven't heard him disapprove of that relationship and you saw his face when you mentioned civil rights and I wouldn't even know about courting or... I'm way too forward as it is when I actually," he shook his head, snapping his mouth shut and Tugger sighed again.

"I saw shock when I mentioned civil rights," Grids answered. "Nothing more or less than shock.  Why don't you actually try talking or something?  Maybe see if you can talk to the ghost again.  I'll bet Macavity has an insider's perspective on the guy."

"Which requires sneaking upstairs with a notepad without Coricopat noticing. Or I could ask him to do Morse code with the doors," Mistoffelees shrugged.

"That's... not the one related to me, right?" Tugger asked, sounding a little disturbed.

"No," Griddlebone assured him.  "Munkustrap is, right?"  She glanced at Mistoffelees, "As far as I can tell he plays the piano and messes with the lights."

Mistoffelees nodded. "Don't worry, he was pissed but not the one to dump you down the stairs."

"You got dumped down the stairs?"  Griddlebone looked at Tugger accusingly for not telling her.

"Yeah, I did, and from the sounds of it, Misto did too."

"Just once," Mistoffelees protested. "It was fine. More of a slide than anything."

Griddlebone looked skeptical, "Well, you both seem to be intact, and the stairs seemed to be pretty solid last time."

"As I said, it's fine," Mistoffelees shrugged.

"Good.  But like I said, talk to _someone_ in that house about it is my suggestion.  That or just cross your fingers, kiss him, and hope it works out," Griddlebone settled back a bit again.

"Just like that?" Mistoffelees squeaked.

"Yeah, sounds right," Tugger nodded.

"Yes, just like that.  Better to figure it out than to leave it hanging."

"But just, walk up and," Mistoffelees flailed a hand around.

"Well, you won't talk to him and ask him for an honest answer, so that's the only other suggestion I have," his assistant shrugged.

Blushing, Mistoffelees ducked his head down and reached for the tea. Griddlebone smiled slightly, offered Tugger a look and a shake of her head regarding their friend, and rose, picking up her list of galleries to call and heading off to continue with her phone calls.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat had been making a habit of glancing out any window that overlooked the front gate every time he passed them, though any comment of this on Macavity or Munkustrap's part earned a snarl and an order to leave off.  He'd been up to the attic a handful of times since Mistoffelees had originally taken him up there, but still hadn't found anything beyond a couple of photographs that meant anything.  There still wasn't any indication of how this had actually transpired, and he was bone-weary with trying to sort it out. 

A few days after Mistoffelees had brought Griddlebone to the house, Coricopat sank down at the top of the front stairs, seated on the landing with his feet resting on the top step and his head resting on his hands.  He straightened when he heard a car stop in front of the gate, listening closely until the door handle began to turn.  Rising, he smoothed out his clothes, brushing ineffectively at a couple of spots where the dust simply wouldn't come out.

Entering, Mistoffelees glanced around, and looked up, grinning when he saw Coricopat already there and trying not to act nervous. "You look like you were waiting."

The brunet attempted to shrug casually, but he had a feeling it didn't quite work, "I was taking a break from the attic, paused to rest a bit.  There isn't really much to do around this house after all."

"Anything else in the attic?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head back and leaning against the railing at the bottom of the stairs.

Shaking his head, Coricopat finally started down the staircase, "Just a handful of old photographs.  Nothing really of use, some letters--mostly family correspondences."

"Well, photographs could always be of use," Mistoffelees murmured, fingering the camera on a strap around his neck.

"They aren't answers though," the taller man sighed, running a hand over the banister as he descended.  He stepped off the last stair and looked around the foyer as though trying to recapture something that he'd lost in that realization.

Mistoffelees followed his gaze and back to him. "What is it?" he asked.

He shook his head, "Nothing.  That's the rub isn't it.  It's not a single damn thing."

"Coricopat," Mistoffelees said softly, reaching forward to rest a hand on his arm.

Startling, he looked down at the other's hand, his eyes wide as he brought his gaze back up but didn't draw his arm away, "Yes?"

He snatched his hand back. "I don't know. You just looked sad and..." He floundered, trying to find the correct words to say.

A look that might have been disappointment flickered across the other's features at the removal of Mistoffelees' hand, "I think tired's the word.  I'm so goddamned tired of all of this.  Of having no idea what's going on out there. Of having no idea what went on in here. I'm just tired."

"I," Mistoffelees paused and considering before pulling a thermos out of the bag slung over one shoulder. "Tea?" he offered. "I mean, I'm not sure you ever said anything about whether you can eat or not, and I'm assuming you don't have to but..."

Coricopat blinked at him for a long moment, "I can't remember the last time I had tea.  Or much of anything really.  But," he paused, "yes.  Tea sounds like just the thing."

Sitting on the first step of the stairs, Mistoffelees considered, realizing he hadn't brought a second cup before shrugging and pouring the tea into the cup that came with the thermos, holding it out. "You can have the first then. It's Griddlebone's special brew along the lines of Mistoffelees'-is-being-a-pain-again-and-it's-stressing-me-the-fuck-out."

Accepting the cup, Coricopat smiled faintly at that and sat down beside the other, "She seems like a good friend."  He paused, considering the warmth that seeped from the cup into his hands and carefully took a sip, blinking rapidly as his sense of taste was used again for the first time in many years.

As he watched the other more avidly than he should, Mistoffelees could feel his cheekbones heat up and looked away. "Yeah, she is. Sorta has to be to put up with me."

"And the other one?  He's a good friend to you?" He took another drink of the tea, savoring it for a moment before swallowing and turning his attention back to the cup.

"Yeah," Mistoffelees smiled, crossing his arms at the wrist and leaning his elbows against his knees. "He sorta just invaded my life, and he makes it better. Spent the entire first day I met him driving me crazy by being a brat instead of posing like he was supposed to. Then he sorta dragged me out to dinner and that was, somehow, that."

Coricopat let his gaze wander around the foyer, focusing on a point opposite them, just above the front door as he finished the cup of tea and offered the thermos cup back to the other, "Dinner, hm?"

Mistoffelees hummed. "Yeah. Sushi even. At someplace I could never afford. I'm not sure he was trying to bribe me but I think it worked."

"Well, he seems an interesting sort at least, even if he is a Fletcher," his gaze remained focused across the room, though his closed his eyes against a sudden flare of light where he had been looking.

Mistoffelees blinked from him to the lamp. "He is. He's even great at de-stressing and gives probably the best massages that are non--actually, he might be trained, I don't know. He tends to pick up a lot of meaningless skills because he has the money for it."

Jaw tensing, Coricopat nodded slightly and turned his gaze to a spot on the wall that wasn't occupied by a light fixture, "He seems to make you happy."

Blinking again Mistoffelees paused and then choked. "Wait, no, you're not thinking--?"

The brunet spared a glance for him, "Thinking what? Making logical conclusions from what you've said so far."

Coughing as he tried not to choke on air again, Mistoffelees shook his head. "You're from the twenties, how are you making conclusions like that? Well, okay, some experience, but no. Tugger is... a force of nature and he does stuff and he spends money on people because that's how he shows affection and I happen to tense up more than is healthy as I've had countless people telling me and we are not... he and I aren't something. He's the best friend I've ever had and that would be like sleeping with a brother if I had one." Wrinkling his nose, he shook his head again. “It’s _Tugger_ ,” he finished.

Tension eased out of the line of Coricopat's shoulders at that, "The way you spoke of him, I just thought...Expensive dinners aren't exactly that hard to decipher no matter the year, at least not usually."

"It's Tugger," Mistoffelees replied, deadpan. "Expensive dinners are how he breaths. It's the cheap ones you have to watch out for."

That earned an arched eyebrow, but he nodded, finally rising and offering Mistoffelees a hand, "I think we'd talked about trying to get you out the back door?"

Mistoffelees considered the hand and nodded, screwing the cup back on the thermos and rising, wrapping his hand around Coricopat's. Squeezing the other's hand lightly, he led him through the halls to the back door, still holding Mistoffelees' hand loosely. Frowning at where their hands were, Mistoffelees swallowed and simply allowed himself to be led.

They reached the back door and Coricopat finally released Mistoffelees' hand, not sure how the site would respond to them being in contact at all.  He opened the door and stepped through, pausing at the foot of the back steps to see if the other would be able to follow.

Taking a deep breath, Mistoffelees stepped forward and through the door, looking down to make sure he was other the threshold and grinning. "The house seems to like us?" he offered.

"The occupants like us, I'm never quite sure about the house.  And I can almost promise the garden won't," Coricopat responded.

Frowning, Mistoffelees stepped a bit closer. "The garden is sentient?"

"I...I don't know that I would call it sentient, but," he considered how best to word it, "there's an aura.  And it's, it's never been the most welcoming one."

"Oh," Mistoffelees said and shivered when he looked around, the tangled plants and broken planes of glass from the windows littering the area. "Okay, I can see what you mean."

Coricopat made his careful way along the overgrown brick path toward the greenhouse, pushing aside a rose bush that caught his shirt as he passed, "Just go carefully."

"Sure," Mistoffelees said, pausing at the rose bush and catching one of the roses to consider it more carefully. "They're  beautiful," he murmured before following Coricopat again, stopping from time to time to take a picture, framing Coricopat's back and the ruins of the greenhouse in one frame, and several pictures of the roses in others.

The other man traced a hand around the petals of a blossoming lily absently, "Beautiful, and the only witnesses.  Silent as the grave they are.  As ever."

"Too bad it's not Alice in Wonderland," Mistoffelees murmured. "There the flowers could talk." He whipped the camera around to catch Coricopat with the flowers, realizing idly he could probably create a show just with images of Coricopat at this point.

"I'd be far more concerned about it reflecting Through the Looking Glass.  A Jabberwocky is the last thing we need here," the brunet murmured as he proceeded, stepping carefully around the vines that had trailed onto the path and finally reaching the door of the greenhouse.

Mistoffelees stopped and grinned after him. "I don't know, I think Macavity and the Cheshire cat would have gotten along."

That earned a quiet laugh finally, "Oh I'm quite certain they would have. Mac's always been a little bit on the edge of mad.  Though I suppose we all tread that knife's blade."

"And in what ways are you mad, sir?" Mistoffelees asked, coming abreast of him and stopping before entering the greenhouse.

"To still hold onto any sort of hope after all these years.  I knew I had a spark, but I was expecting it to die out in the next ten.  Yet here I am, and here you are and all I can think is that that hope might well devour me," Coricopat answered.

Mistoffelees looked over at him, eyes a little wide and mouth hanging slightly open before snapping it shut, stepping closer again. "What are you hoping for?"

"I...To be able to leave.  To be able to get out of this place and, well," he trailed off slightly, gaze locked on Mistoffelees.

Taking another half step forward Mistoffelees moved back when the door to the greenhouse slammed, drawing their attention back to what Mistoffelees was supposed to be doing. Ducking his head, Mistoffelees stepped into the burned out husk of a building, looking around and wishing the sight didn't take his breath away.

Coricopat flushed, offering the door a dark look before following Mistoffelees inside and stilling.  The destruction that the fire had caused was still evident in the scorch marks that even the ivy twining through broken windows couldn't cover.  He ran a hand over one of the marks as he did every time he came out to the greenhouse.  Drawing an unsteady breath he let his gaze sweep over the shell of the building, memories twining around him of a time before.  Before the flames, before the empty house, before the destruction of what good there once was in this property.

Looking back at him, Mistoffelees hesitated. "I don't," he started and shook his head. "I'm not even sure I should but I," he sighed before setting to work photographing the interior.

Offering the other a faint smile that quickly vanished, the brunet shook his head, "If it's let you out here, you're supposed to."  He leaned back against one of the walls, still solid enough to hold his weight, as though he didn't trust himself to stand on his own in this place.

"It's still," Mistoffelees shook his head. "I just feel as if I'm being disrespectful," he said and paused when he saw Coricopat.

"You've already photographed the bedroom, this is the last piece, isn't it?" He tilted his head back, grey eyes focused on where a tree overhung the broken glass roof, a pained expression briefly crossing his face.

"Yeah," he said, kneeling down to take a better picture of the ceiling and several corners before rising.

Coricopat's gaze skittered around the building once more before he turned on his heel and left, drawing a shuddering breath once he was back among the flowers. It was just a place.  He snorted, reminding himself that he'd tried that line for years and it had never done any good.  Glancing back at the still open door he tried to convince himself to go back inside, just until Mistoffelees was finished at least.

Except moments later Mistoffelees walked out and almost instantly decided to wrap his arms around Coricopat, pulling him into a hard embrace. Startling at that, Coricopat's hands fluttered for a moment before he wrapped his arms around the smaller man and simply held on, trying to ground himself in the fact that there was life there, and there were still beating hearts in the world.  That there was still hope left somewhere in all of this.

"You're going to be okay," Mistoffelees murmured, senselessly, burying his face in Coricopat's shoulder. "I think I know what to do to make this okay."

The taller man drew back enough so that he could tilt Mistoffelees' face up and look him in the eye, "What do you mean?  What are you going to do?"

"Macavity asked me... to find a way to break whatever curse is here," Mistoffelees murmured. "So do you trust me? Because I'm not sure I trust me but..."

Grey eyes wide, the other swallowed and finally nodded, "I do.  I trust you, and if anyone can do it, something tells me it would be you."

Mistoffelees gave him a tiny smile. "Okay. Than trust me."

Coricopat traced a thumb over the smaller man's cheekbone with a reflection of the smile, "Alright.  I'll trust you.  Let...let me know how the show goes, yes?"

"I will," Mistoffelees nodded and stepped back quickly, taking off for the front door.

Watching him go, Coricopat followed slowly back to the house, though he stopped at the back door and paused, his hand resting on the door, to look back at the greenhouse.  He drew a deep breath and entered the house, closing the door behind him and taking the back stairs up to his room.

Mistoffelees paused right at the front door once he was on the other side, staring at it. "He'll survive this, won't he?" he demanded and the door quivered before opening and shutting, spelling out a hesitant yes.

"I really hope you're right," Mistoffelees told Macavity and took off toward his car.

o-o-o-o

Griddlebone wove her way through the people at the show opening, reaching Mistoffelees' side, "It's a good turn-out and so far I've heard favorable takes on much of it.  Those last pictures of the greenhouse are... haunting sounds like too much of a pun, but that's the best word I guess."  She watched the patrons move through the show, lingering longer here and there over a particular picture.

"We'll call them staggering than," Mistoffelees murmured, looking around at the space he had begged for. Since it was on short notice the show was only going to be there for a brief time, a week and a half, but already he felt like he needed to get back to the house.

Coming up behind him, a glass of champagne in one hand, Tugger slung an arm over Mistoffelees' shoulder. "So, even when I'm not modeling for you, my house is awesome. I see how it is." Mistoffelees offered his friend a strained smile.

"Something about your family's just photogenic," Griddlebone remarked, her words directed at Tugger, though her glance flicked to Mistoffelees.  "You're going back soon, aren't you?" Though it was phrased as a question, her words held a note more akin to a statement.

He looked around, jittery. "When can I leave?" he asked. "For the sake of form I mean."

Tugger blinked at him. "You mean tonight?"

"I want to make sure he's okay," Mistoffelees said, glancing to the only picture of Coricopat he displayed as part of the collection, of him standing by the window of the Southern bedroom, looking outside and the light catching on his features.

Griddlebone glanced at her watch, calculating how long they'd been there and how much longer the gallery was open, "Give it fifteen minutes and make sure to say good bye to the gallery owner and then you can leave, alright?"

He nodded, still bouncing on the balls of his feet. Tugger gaped at both of them. "You want to go out there by yourself at night? What if you find something..." he stopped at Mistoffelees' stricken look and decided to say something different. "Not good?"

Griddlebone glanced from one to the other and paused, "Will you take Tugger with you? If he promises to wait in the car until you say otherwise?"

"I suppose," Mistoffelees managed, looking around and feeling protective of his entire show but desperate to leave.

"I'll stay here and keep an eye on all of this," she assured him.

"Thank you," he said, pausing as critic walked by, speaking with his guest.

"The entire idea of a ghostly romance is sentimentalism in its pursed form," he was saying and Mistoffelees blinked, before suppressing a smile.

"Right," he said, under his breath.

Griddlebone's lips curled, "Well, whether the critics like it or not, the other guests seem to."  Glancing at the clock, she finally nodded, "Alright, if you can find our host to say goodbye and make your excuses you can go."

"I just don't understand," the critic said as Mistoffelees fled for the door, stopping by to greet the gallery owner, Tugger following him. "He usually is so grounded."

o-o-o-o

Coricopat found himself pacing the foyer as the sun set outside.  It had been a few days again since he'd heard from Mistoffelees and he was beginning to get nervous.  For all his assurances to himself and to the photographer that he trusted him, it was a lot to ask.  He gave up on the foyer and started a circuit of the downstairs rooms, Munkustrap's lights following him as he cycled through the house.

Tugger had driven, considering how on edge Mistoffelees was so the arrival of the car almost coincided with Mistoffelees bursting through the door.

Startling, Coricopat turned from where he'd started up the stairs to continue his pacing up there, "Mistoffelees?"

Looking around, Mistoffelees paused. "Hi," he managed finally, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I didn't expect you tonight," he said, descending the stairs to stand in front of the other.

"Well, I wanted to," he started and looked around. "Okay, both better and worse than I was expecting."

Coricopat frowned slightly at that, "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, I," he shook his head and started walking around the room, shaking his head. "I don't know."

Reaching out for him, Coricopat caught his wrist lightly, "Mistoffelees?"

Looking down at the hand, Mistoffelees slowly brought his eyes back up to Coricopat's face. "Yeah?"

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know," he said. "Just, I don't know, something might have changed."

Reaching up, he rested a hand against the other's cheek, "You tried.  That's all that can be asked of you.  Thank you for doing so much."

Mistoffelees scowled. "I suppose the cot is still an option."

"Cot?" he blinked in confusion.

Mistoffelees blinked and shrugged, offering him a sheepish smile. "The show opened tonight."

Coricopat still looked confused, but nodded slightly, "That's good.  That is good, right?"

"I think it opened well, there were even drinks and small food on plates," Mistoffelees said, looking around. "But..."

"But?" the other man kept his gaze focused on Mistoffelees rather than on the surroundings.

He let out a breath. "I thought... Macavity made a fuss about telling the story. He said that would..."

"Break the curse," Coricopat sighed. "And you told the story with the photographs.  There's always more to it than we think."

Mistoffelees nodded. "Apparently. I don't know, maybe it has to be in writing too?"

Combing a hand through Mistoffelees' hair, Coricopat shrugged very slightly, "Perhaps.  Don't worry about it tonight though.  You've done more than enough."

"But I haven't done anything," Mistoffelees protested.

"Don't you see?  You _have_.  Maybe it didn't break the curse, but you've given me hope and a reason to get up in the mornings.  That's got to count for something, doesn't it?"

"But I want to be able to free you too," Mistoffelees murmured.

Coricopat blinked at him for a moment before leaning in and pressing a grateful kiss to the other's lips, hand cupping Mistoffelees' cheek. Mistoffelees' eyes widened in surprise and he pressed further up into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Coricopat's neck and holding on.

Wrapping an arm around Mistoffelees' waist and pulling him closer, Coricopat leaned down into the kiss.  There was a stirring in the air around them and the lights throughout the house began to flicker, finally concentrating in the foyer in a bright flare that dimmed quickly only to glow brighter on the next charge.  Barely registering the behavior of the ghost, Coricopat allowed the hand on Mistoffelees' cheek to move around and tangle in his dark hair.

Making a quiet sound, Mistoffelees was about to draw back and say something when the door pushed open and Tugger stepped inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken out of Florence and the Machines "If Only for a Night." 
> 
> Besides that song, inspired by this tumblr gif set: http://victoriousscarf.tumblr.com/post/31912159403/meadowlark4491-this-just-looks-like-it-would


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